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littlexdeaths · 23 hours

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what are friends for? - e.m.

best friend eddie munson x fem reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: period talk/period blood, eddie is the sweetest as always, grinding, fingering, one singular use of daddy

a/n: thank you to @callsignraver for the title idea 🤭 the eddie edit was made by me! you can use it, just please credit my side blog (strangergraphics), if you do. now enjoy xx.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can tell me,” he sounds so sincere, which is why you can’t even look at him.

Because looking at him would just open a set of floodgates that you aren’t prepared to deal with right now.

Looking at him is only going to fuel the fire that is raging in your lower abdomen— that was lit the moment you stepped foot in the trailer.

A fire that he’s been steadily stoking with each brush of his fingertips against yours as you reach for more popcorn. Or when his knee bumps casually into yours as he shifts on the small sofa.

Which for someone as fidgety as Eddie Munson— was a lot.

“I promise I’m not gonna laugh or anything, just tell me what’s wrong.”

Your best friend had been able to pick up on the shift in your mood almost immediately. But he chose not to comment on it until now, unable to handle it any longer.

But how in the hell were you supposed to tell him that it’s his fault? That he’s driving you crazy?

That you want nothing more than to have his fingers buried inside you?

“You wouldn’t get it,” you sigh, shifting your body further away from him on the sofa.

Clinging onto the arm for dear life as you pretend to watch the clash of light sabers on the tv screen.

His snort has your eyes rolling.

“Try me.”

Your hands move up to rub your temples, eyes slipping shut.

“It’s a dumb girl thing—”

He jumps up off the sofa before you can even finish your sentence, returning from the bathroom mere moments later with a bottle of Advil in tow.

Eddie doesn’t register your confused expression as he stands before you, holding out the bottle.

“Cramps, right?” he asks, a kind smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You feel embarrassed, because of course that’s what he would think. He’s heard you drone on and on about it over the years. He only wants to help, like the kind friend that is he is.

Friend, being the keyword here.

“I um…” you mumble, taking the bottle from his outstretched hand.

You attempt to ignore the heat that continues to pool in between your thighs as you stare at the veins protruding from his hand. The way his thick fingers were previously gripping onto the pill bottle.

How they would feel gripping your inner thighs….

No. Stop it.

You mentally scold yourself, chewing on your lower lip as he takes a seat on the sofa.

“I appreciate it, but that’s not the issue.”

Now he’s the one who looks confused, leaning forward as he scratches at the stubble on his jaw.

“Then what is it?” he prods.

Eddie knocks his knee into yours again, tingles shooting up your spine from the subtle touch.

“It’s just, I’m feeling…”

“Tired?”

“No.”

“Bloated?”

“No!”

“Hangry—”

“Horny!” you shout, startling you both, “I’m horny.”

Your voice has gone soft, a near whisper compared to your previous volume. The air around you is suddenly thicker, and you are once again unable to meet his gaze.

“Oh,” he says after a long pause.

“Yeah, oh.”

You feel the tips of your ears warming as you continue to stare down at your lap. The beginning chords of the imperial march are the only thing filling the uncomfortable silence between you.

“I mean, I could always help you,” he replies finally.

His words cause your eyes to shoot up in surprise, your head turning to meet his molten hues.

“That’s— I wouldn’t ask you to do that, Ed.”

His ringed hand suddenly reaches over to rest on your knee, fingers slipping beneath the rips in your jeans.

“What if I want to?”

Now you’re the one rendered speechless.

“What if I have wanted to… for a long time,” he continues, his other hand reaching up to cup your cheek.

His thumb brushes over your lower lip, determination in his eyes as he leans further into your space. You can’t help how your body gravitates towards him, your hands clutching onto the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

You can feel the way his breath mingles with yours, nicotine and movie theater butter. But it’s the flecks of honey in his eyes that break down your remaining defenses.

You answer him with a kiss, lightly pressing them to his. Testing the waters. Eddie eagerly deepens it, pulling you in closer until you’re in his lap. Your thighs bracket his hips, his hands encircling your waist.

The kiss becomes heated, faster than either of you are prepared for. You lower your hips harder onto his lap, inhaling his soft gasp as your bodies meld together. His grip tightens on your hips as you eagerly grind yourself against his crotch, welcoming the friction.

“Hold on, baby.” He groans again, his large hands stopping any further movement.

Baby.

He’s never called you that before.

Your lower lip juts out in a pout as he maneuvers you off of his lap, and back onto the soft cushions of the sofa. The male quickly sinks to his knees, his hands splaying across the tops of your thighs as he works himself between them. He chuckles at your expression, shaking his head slightly.

“Patience, pretty girl,” he hums as his hands slide further up your thighs until they reach the button on your jeans. “Let’s get these off, yeah?”

Your nerves suddenly kick back into gear, despite the flames continuing to lick your skin. Eddie has become so tuned into your emotions over the years that he can sense this new shift immediately. This was an emotion he has seen plenty of times, but it was never because of him.

The notion has his hands freezing as they hover over the closure of your jeans.

“Shit, did I do something wrong?”

You quickly shake your head, letting out a nervous laugh. “I just… don’t wanna make a mess.”

His expression softens as you gesture to the tan sofa beneath you. The male rises to his feet without another word, darting over to the laundry basket that is seated on top of their washing machine. He digs through a pile of clothes until he finds whatever he’s searching for.

A dark maroon towel.

He clutches the soft fabric in his hands as he makes his way back to you, resuming his previous position between your legs. He sets it next to you, his brown eyes nervously shifting between your thighs and your face.

“You can touch me, Eds,” you say, carefully taking his hands in yours to guide them up to the clasp on your jeans.

Eddie doesn’t need to hear anything else.

He makes quick work of removing your jeans, tugging the denim down your thighs. His eagerness has you giggling, the tops of his cheeks flushing a light pink even in the muted light.

He pauses for a moment, leaning back as he drinks in your newly exposed skin. His eyes darken even further as his calloused fingers grip the hem of your cotton panties.

“God, take them off— please,” you whine, no longer caring if you sound pathetic.

You’ve waited far too many years for this to happen, and your patience has finally run out. Eddie chuckles, sliding your panties (pad and all) down your thighs. The male carelessly tosses them over his shoulder, ignoring your small protest.

“Lift up,” he hums, motioning you to guide your hips up.

He easily slides the towel beneath you, letting your body relax against the plush material. Eddie gently rests his hands over the tops of your thighs once more, beginning to spread them even wider. Your cheeks warm as his eyes zero in on your core, whining softly as he licks his lips.

“Christ,” he breathes, inhaling deeply as he notes the way your arousal shines in the glowing light of the tv.

He leans back for a moment, dark eyes flicking up to meet your gaze as he slowly slides each of those gaudy rings off his fingers. Eddie takes his time in doing so, the clink of metal echoes in your ears as he gathers them in his palm.

“Gimme your hand,” he says softly, but the command in his voice lingers all the same.

You hold out your left hand towards him, ignoring the way it trembles as he begins to slide each of his large rings onto your fingers. His dimples indent his cheeks as he grins, carefully lifting your knuckles to his lips. He presses a soft kiss to each one, ensuring that he keeps his eyes trained on you as he does so.

“Keep those safe for me, sweetheart.”

He winks playfully, leaning forward to brush his lips over the bare skin of your shin. His hands hook under your knees, allowing you to drape your legs over his shoulders. His movements have slowed drastically, taking his time before his fingers finally dip between your thighs.

Your soft gasp spurs him on, his fingers running through your drenched folds. He gathers your arousal on his fingertips, dragging them up to encircle over your swollen bud. You let your body relax against the couch cushions, allowing your eyes to slip shut as he continues his gentle touches.

But as soon as his touch starts— it stops just as fast.

A whine spills past your lips as his large hands wrap around the meat of your thighs and squeeze.

“Eyes on me, baby,” he coos, pressing his lips to the curve of your knee.

His teeth lightly nip at the skin there, causing your eyes to flutter back open.

“Yes, sir,” you giggle as he groans.

His fingers are back on you before you have time to mention his reaction, circling your entrance before dipping inside slowly. It causes your breath to hitch, his middle finger able to stretch you out better than any of yours ever have.

Eddie curses under his breath as he adds another, your body almost greedily sucks him in. Your hand instinctively reaches forward to grip onto his bicep. The rings that adorn your hand are biting into his skin, the thought alone makes his jeans impossibly tighter.

“God, you’re so wet,” he moans, guiding his fingers even deeper inside you.

You reply with a soft whine, your thoughts entirely too jumbled to provide him with anything else. His eyes have momentarily dropped from your face to where his fingers are nestled inside you. He slides them back out, admiring the sticky pink mixture that’s coating his thick digits.

“Eddie, don’t tease,” you huff, guiding your hips back towards his awaiting hand.

Your impatient attitude has him chuckling, those dark hues flicking up to meet yours again.

“Oh, you want these back, baby?” He taunts, his other hand gripping onto your thigh as he eases three of the digits inside your entrance.

The brunette holds them there, enjoying the way your body begins to squirm beneath him. Taunting you.

“Go on, say it, sweetheart.”

He raises a brow at you, slightly pushing his fingers in deeper, before he quickly retracts them with your continued silence. Repeating the action.

“I want…” you start, but the curl of his fingers makes you lose your train of thought.

“Hmm, you want what?” he prods.

He completely removes them from your entrance, ignoring your pleading eyes as he slides them back up to dance around your clit.

Your soft mewl of his name does nothing to deter his actions, it only slows them.

“Come on, use that pretty little head of yours,” he hums as the tips of his fingers graze over your swollen bud.

“God, just— please!” your voice raises an octave, taking on a breathy quality.

The corner of his mouth pulls up in a smirk as he tilts his head at you. His fingers dip lower, circling over your puckered hole.

“Ya know, while I usually prefer something along the lines of master… or even daddy,” he muses, noting how your breath hitches.

“God, sure has a nice ring to it.”

His head falls back as he laughs, a playful pout adorning his lips as you swat at him. Those simmering embers have quickly morphed into a raging fire, ready to engulf you both in the flames.

“Eddie, I swear to God. If you don’t put those fingers back inside me, I will—“

The rest of your threat gets caught in your throat as he thrusts his fingers back in, a strangled moan takes their place.

“See, was that so hard, princess?” he teases.

You don’t answer him, instead grinding your hips down to meet his palm. Eddie pumps his fingers faster, his thumb pressing onto your clit. The wet squelch that follows has him moaning, nuzzling his face against your knee.

Your hand releases his bicep, slipping down his arm to tangle your fingers together. He holds them tightly, beginning to curl the others inside you. The calloused tips brush against your sweet spot, pulling another whine from your throat.

“Oh, right there,” you pant, chest heaving as his thumb firmly massages your clit.

That fire continues to burn brighter with each thrust of his fingers, ready to swallow you whole.

“That’s it,” he grins, watching in awe as you make a mess of his fingers, streaks of red and pink dripping down his knuckles.

“Makin’ such a mess f’me, baby.”

You barely register his words as your back arches up off the sofa. Your eyes squeeze shut as white hot pleasure bursts behind your eyelids. His rings dig into your skin from how tightly you’re grasping him, legs trembling as he coaxes you through your high.

Your ears are ringing as you finally collapse into the lumpy cushions, whining as he continues to gently thrust his fingers inside you.

“Come ‘ere,” you mumble, eyes fluttering open to meet his.

His cheek is smushed against your inner thigh, only breaking your heavy lidded stare to slide his fingers out of you. He hums, carefully lifting his fingers towards the dim light from the tv. He rubs them together, gazing in utter fascination at the sticky strings they leave behind.

You already miss his warmth, tugging playfully on his unruly curls to grab his attention. He chuckles, wiping his fingers on the towel beneath you before he’s hovering over your body. Hips pressed into yours, not caring if you make a mess on the front of his pants.

“Thank you,” you whisper, twirling one of his curls around your ringed finger.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart.” He grins down at you, his dark eyes almost sparkling.

“Besides…” he pauses, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. “What are friends for?”

tagging: @xxbimbobunnyxx @undead-supernova @munsonhoneybaby @hippiegoth97 @cinemabean @strangerstilinski @corrodedcorpses @curlyjoequinn @mugloversonly @eddiesxangel @hellfirenacht @splendiferous-bitch @razzeith @aleisashortcake @ali-r3n @eddie-is-a-god (i tried tagging you i promise 😭)

#the freak writes 🫧#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie x you #eddie x reader #best friend!eddie munson x fem!reader #best friend!eddie munson

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bahablastplz · 2 days

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Cosmic Love: Chan x Reader x Felix

A night at the club turns into a lot more than you anticipated, all thanks to a stupid text that you don't even remember sending. The next day, Chan and Felix invite you over for dinner. That's all it is, right? Content: Smut, minor angst, fluff Warnings: Use of petnames 'love,' and 'babygirl,' threesome, fingering, oral (f! and m! receiving), p in v sex, lots of praise, spanking (barely), humiliation/second hand embarrassment WC: 4700

It starts like this:

Chan texts you the morning after you go to the club. Of course, you’re hungover out of your mind, but that’s to be expected. On Saturday morning, or afternoon you suppose, you roll out of bed with a loud groan, a pulsing headache making its way behind your eyes.

You notice that your makeup has been removed and you’re now sporting clothes much comfier than your dress and heels that were suffocating you last night at the club. Your phone is also plugged in, and you have been notorious for waking up with a dead phone the morning after waking up from a night out.

You have half the mind to wonder, how the hell were you cognizant enough last night to do all of this? You certainly don’t remember it. It all makes sense when you check your notifications, screen a little too bright for your liking, and see that Chan had texted you an hour ago.

Channie: Hey babygirl I don’t know if you remember, but Felix and I brought you home last night~ You were pretty fucked up haha If you’re feeling up to it, you want to join us for dinner tonight at my place? Me you and Lix Hope you’re feeling okay this morning. Let us know if you need anything, yeah?

You groan. Of course Chan and Felix brought you home last night, that makes so much more sense. Chan has always been a natural caretaker, and if he was at the club last night and you tried to go home with some random guy or even take an Uber, he surely would have become overprotective and offered to take you home himself.

Your heart pangs when you read the text again. Babygirl. The pet name makes it easy to remember the major crush you’ve been harboring for him for forever. Him and Felix both, honestly. You really really hope you didn’t say anything embarrassing last night that you can’t remember. That would be just your luck, honestly. Taking a deep breath, you make a note to take some Advil as you text him back.

Y/N: Thanks so much I’ll be there! Can’t wait

He texts you back almost instantly:

Channie: Sick We’re super excited

A red flag should have raised over the fact that, though him and Felix were your closest friends, they almost never invited you over to their place. They almost always come over to yours when you hang out, and hangouts usually happen more organically. You brush the thought aside, chalking it up to Chan’s protective nature and need to make sure you’re okay after what was likely a rough night out.

That’s all it is, right?

You’re only giddy because of this stupid crush on your friends you can’t quite push away. There’s not anything more going on and there’s no lines to read between. You repeat this like a mantra as you get ready tonight, putting on just a little bit of makeup (for no reason in particular!!!), and repeat it once more as you knock on Chan’s door, bottle of wine in hand.

He opens the door with a large smile, all teeth, that makes your heart beat a little faster. When you hand him the bottle of wine you’re met with a hearty laugh. “You sure you didn’t have enough of this last night?” he teases. You shove his chest lightly, giving him a devilish grin.

“What if I brought it for you?” You quip back.

“I think we were imagining a type of fun that didn’t involve alcohol.” You give him a smile at his words, brows furrowing for a second before brushing off his words. He probably just means they intend to stay sober tonight. You’ve had plenty of nights that were fun that didn’t involve alcohol, so that’s all he meant by his words! Shrugging, you put the wine in the fridge instead of cracking it open, taking his advice to save the drink for another day.

Dinner is amazing. Chan made it with Felix’s observation, as according to Chan the other shouldn’t be allowed in the kitchen ever again. You laugh as he dives into several stories of baking incidents gone wrong, including a time that Felix and Seungmin ended up burning everything they made. You defend your friend, telling Chan that Felix ‘does make killer brownies,’ which the other can’t argue with. It’s decided that Felix should do most of his cooking alone, as anytime he cooks with anybody else it ends up in a minor disaster. Felix looks thoroughly flushed and embarrassed by the end of your conversation so the two of you relent on your teasing.

You decide on a movie. It’s not even really that entertaining and you’re barely paying attention if you’re being honest. It’s some movie you’d seen a hundred times before. You find your place between Chan and Felix, your body squished between your two friends. You nuzzle your head into Chan’s shoulder and prop your legs up onto Felix. You’re comfortable, very much so, though you tense for a second when you feel Felix’s hand rest on your thigh. You can also feel Chan’s breath on your neck, and you suddenly feel hot. Very hot.

You hope they can’t feel how warm to the touch you’ve become, and at such a simple action at that. Are you really that pathetic? God, your crush on them has gotten out of hand, you think, but when Felix’s hand raises further up your thigh and starts rubbing teasing circles you’re not so sure this is all in your head anymore. Chan has always been touchy with you and Felix moreso, but this is just a little bit out of character for them. You’re worried to speak up for a second, scared that your words would make Felix retract his hand. When he looks up at you with an inquisitorial gaze, however, you can’t help the words that spill from your mouth. “Lix–”

You’re not prepared for the words that come from the man behind you.

“Tell me, Y/N,” Chan says lowly. “Do you want me to fuck you nice and hard?” He punctuates his words and your body physically tenses. Your world has come to a full stop.

“What?”

“Do you want me to–”

“I… I heard you,” you interrupt. “I’m just… I’m not quite sure what you mean.” You feel afraid to look up at Chan from behind you, and you certainly don’t look at Felix; though his hand has stilled, it still rests firmly on your thigh.

“I don’t know if you remember this,” Chan says. His demeanor has changed, and you’re met with a chuckle and a deep breath. He seems very shy compared to the man just seconds ago speaking into your ear. “Last night when you were at the club, you texted me and Lix in a group chat.”

Fuck.

That makes so much more sense, you think. No way would you have gotten that fucked up without doing something you would regret. You reach for your phone but a hand rests on top of yours, stilling your movement.

“No, it’s okay,” he says in response to your panic. “I already have it pulled up. I was thinking I could read it to you.”

“Chan, I’m sorry, I’m sure I didn’t–”

He shushes you. For some reason sparks shoot up your spine at the action. You purse your lips shut, an action that implies your silence and you wait for him to continue.

“Last night you were dancing with us,” he starts. “You were drunk out of your mind. I think you knew that already. But you texted Lix and I, and we could just tell you had enough to drink so we offered to take you home. But while we were in the car,” he laughs lightly. You don’t feel like laughing back, “While we were in the car, you texted us. It wasn’t meant for us, but you told us some things that you wanted us to, um, do to you.”

“That’s not the worst part,” Felix provides unhelpfully. You glare at the man and he smiles sweetly. “Chris’ phone was connected to bluetooth and it read your texts out loud in the car.”

You groan. Thank God you were drunk enough last night to not remember that because you’re not sure you can even relive the memory. In fact, even now you wish for the world to split open and swallow you whole.

“Emmaaaaa,” Chan starts, reading your texts out loud in a voice that is obviously meant to resemble your own. You realize now that the text was meant for your best friend, the one that you use to hopelessly rant to about your strong unrequited crush for the two boys in question.

“God they’re so finee I want Channie and Lixie so bad fr I just want them to ruin me You know I’ve never been fucked right but I want Chan to just fuck me nice and hard ughhshh I know you’re so tired of hearing me talk about this But he’s so perfect I just know he could fuck me up sooo good And Felix? I just want him to whisper filthy things in my ears With his perfect voice He looks like such an angel I just want to see what he’s really like, if he’ll fuck me soft or nice and hard like Channie I need them both to ruin me!!!! You don’t understand If I don’t get someone’s cock in my mouth–”

“Oh my god that’s enough,” you interrupt. You’re not sure you can listen to another second of past-you embarrassing yourself, and you tell him as much when you shoot out of his grasp and turn around to look at him. He has a sly fucking grin on his mouth and you can’t help but feel like you’re the butt of a joke you didn’t ask to be a part of. “I… I can’t listen to you embarrass me anymore. I’m so sorry about what I said and I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Hell, you know I don’t even remember it, and I know that really doesn’t excuse it but I hope you know I never wanted to ruin our friendship. I know you guys don’t feel the same way so if you want, I can go and–”

Chan puts his hands around your shoulders, halting your movements when you try to stand.

“Woah woah woah, babygirl,” he says, trying to interrupt your sad attempt at salvaging your relationship. “It’s not what you think, actually. You could never ruin your friendship with us, okay?” You feel tears prick at your eyes, truly humiliated with how the night has progressed. Even now, Chan is here trying to be nice to you so you won’t feel bad about what happened which is somehow even more humiliating.

“Did you really mean what you said?” Felix says, finally.

“Can I even take it back now?” you say, laughing sardonically. “You know, drunk actions are sober thoughts, or whatever they say? I’m so sorry, again. Like I said, if you want me to leave I can.” Your eyes flit between Felix and Chan, gauging for a reaction, any sense that they may be uncomfortable with your actions. You’re surprised to find none.

“If you really meant it,” Chan says, inhaling through his teeth and clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth, “Then we kind of had a proposal for you.”

“What kind of proposal?” you ask suspiciously.

“The kind where maybe we have sex? All three of us,” he suggests.

What.

What?

“What!?” Your brain supplies the only word it can think of. This is a joke, right? Your feelings that have been unrequited for so long are being reciprocated this casually? You stare blankly at the two men who are waiting for some sort of response.

“I… I’m not sure if I can,” you answer finally. Though everything in your body is telling you yes yes yes, the arousal already pooling in between your legs, your brain finally seems to be the one in the forefront making the decisions. “I can’t do that, have ‘just sex’ with you. Either of you. And maybe I’m about to make a fool of myself even more tonight, but I have to admit that my feelings for you both run a lot deeper than just… sexual.” You let out a heavy sigh when you finally admit the truth. “I’m scared that I won’t be able to detach my emotions from it all, and I really don’t want to ruin what we have going on.”

You’re met with silence and you open your eyes but don’t look at either of them, instead opting to look at the floor. Did Chan get a new carpet? It looks really nice–

“I don’t think it would be ‘just sex,’ babygirl.” Chan and that goddamned pet name that makes your heart flutter. “We’ve, uh, both liked you for a very long time. And we want this to go further, if you’re interested of course.”

For the second time in one night, you feel as if the world has tilted on its axis. Maybe it has, because you feel a little bit dizzier now and your heart beats a little bit faster than it did just seconds ago.

“Are you sure?” you ask, worrying your lip between your teeth. Felix takes his thumb and pulls your lip out from between your teeth, his thumb lingering for a second before pushing into your mouth. Your eyes close and your tongue swirls around the appendage.

“Do you want this, love?” The deep timbre of his voice sends shivers down your spine and your eyes open, meeting his gaze. For a second, it feels as if nothing but you and Felix exist in this entire world, and you ponder his words for a second. If they really mean it and they have both liked you for a while now, you don’t have to worry about separating feelings from sex. You ponder what this means for your relationships going forward for a second but the pulsing need between your legs and the way your breath hitches when his thumb pushes further into your mouth tells you all you need to know. You want this. You nod your head and know it’s the right choice when you’re met with a reassuring smile.

“If you’re sure, then we’re sure,” Chan says from beside you. You feel his fingers on your leg, veiny hands rubbing small circles on the expanse of your thigh. When he grips the plush of your thigh hard you can’t help the gasp that comes from your mouth, and Felix’s thumb releases from your mouth, wet with your saliva. You feel his hand come to rest on your face as he caresses you softly, brushing a stray hair away from your face as he leans in to kiss you.

You breathe into the kiss but let him take the lead, soft and plush lips delicate against your own. When his tongue barely brushes your bottom lip you’re already opening your mouth for him eagerly, letting his tongue come into contact with yours. The kiss is passionate but almost too romantic for what you’re about to let him do to you. When you moan into the kiss he deepens it, hands pulling your face even closer to his own.

You note the movement on the couch next to you and Chan taps your shoulder. When you turn your head to look at him he’s crashing his lips into yours in a bruising kiss, messy and desperate and it catches you off guard but you return his advances eagerly, lips and tongue moving expertly against one anothers.

Felix’s hand comes and snakes around your waist, stopping your kiss just long enough to lift your shirt over your head. His warm breath hits your neck and it’s all you can focus on besides Chan’s wet tongue against yours, but then Felix’s fingers rub your nipples over the fabric of your bra and you’re keening backwards into his touch, running away while simultaneously trying to get more at the same time.

When Chan finally breaks the kiss it’s with a groan and a long string of saliva connects you, wet and dirty. He sits back and admires the work that Felix is doing, having you come completely undone for him with just his fingers against your still clothed breasts. It’s Chan that reaches and unclasps your bra, leaving you utterly exposed in front of the two men in front of you and he wastes no time before joining Felix in his ministrations.

The teasing becomes too much, tongue and teeth and pinching over your abused breasts, and at this point you’re not sure how much more squeezing of your thighs together you can do before it comes to much.

“Please,” you breathe, and you’re not even quite sure what you’re asking for.

“Please what, babygirl?” Chan coos at you, words laced with a teasing lilt. You reach forward and grab his hand and it’s like your breath stops when you place his hand right between your legs where you need him the most. “Want me to touch you?” He asks. His breathing is heavy and you admire his attempt at trying to keep his composure.

“Yes, please,” you nod, eyes never leaving his. Not even when his hand cups your clothed pussy and you buck up into him with a cry. Felix shifts from behind you and pulls your back into his chest as Chan reaches down to pull down your shorts with one swift motion.

You’re completely bare for them now, and you have little time to dwell on this fact before Felix grabs your legs and spreads them open, hooking them over his own. His hands rest on your thighs, holding you into place and giving Chan access to your sopping core.

“God, babygirl you’re soaked,” Chan notes, two fingers swiping in between your folds. You can hear it, the wetness pooled between your legs, but when he leans his face forward and meets his tongue with your clit you can’t help the surprise that creeps from your throat.

He’s relentless, his tongue flicking and circling your clit mercilessly. Your legs shake and try to close but are held open by Felix’s own.

You look up at the man behind you with teary eyes and open mouth, thinking about asking him to give you mercy but the expression on his face tells you all you need to know. He’s enjoying this just as much as Chan is.

“Does that feel good?” he asks into your ear.

“Yes, oh my god,” you tell him as his lips come down to meet yours in a short peck. They ultimately land on your neck, nipping at the junction between your neck and ear.

“Tell me how good,” he instructs. “Tell me how good he’s making you feel.”

“So good, Felix, oh,” you moan. Two of Chan’s fingers thrust into you, in motion with the way that his tongue abuses your clit and it’s already too much. “God, Felix, he’s making me feel so good. He’s… He’s eating me out so good, his tongue feels…oh my–” you know you’re babbling but you can’t help the moan that interrupts your words. Felix shushes you, and you think his hands are going to find place in your hair to soothe you but instead they make way to your breasts, still sensitive from just minutes prior.

His thumb and pointer finger pinch your nipples between his fingers, tugging and twisting them. Your back arches at his touch and your skin prickles at his low voice in your ear.

“You’re doing so, so good for us, love. Fuck, you’re being so good letting Channie eat your pussy like that,” he says. One hand comes to grab the flesh at your hip, kneading it as he continues to tease your pebbled nipple between his fingers. “Do you like being good for us?”

“Yes, fuck, fuck, I like being good for you,” you cry out. “Love it so much, oh my god–” and as Chan’s fingers curl up inside of you, you find your orgasm being ripped out of you with no warning. You’re cumming hard around his fingers, pulsing tightly as he lets you ride out your high on his face. Behind you Felix takes to setting a slow pace in rubbing his hands up and down your body, grounding you with his touch as he whispers praises in your ears.

When you finally open your eyes again, you truly feel like you have woken up in a different dimension.

“Holy fuck–” you rasp, noting when Felix wipes a tear from your eyes you hadn’t realized you had shed.

“Do you think you can take us, babygirl?” Chan asks as he pulls his fingers from your center. He reaches across your body to offer his soaking fingers to Felix, who eagerly takes them in his mouth for the chance to taste you. You don’t miss the way he moans around Chan’s fingers.

“Yes,” you say softly. “Want you both.”

Felix reaches down and kisses you, much more comfortable this time with the way that he allows himself to be rougher with you, pushing his tongue into your mouth with a boldness that was lacking earlier. When you pull apart you notice the large hands on your waist that aren’t his and you’re being flipped around by Chan before you can process it. Your ass is up in the air and you’re on all fours now, squeaking when Chan lands a quick hit to your ass and kneads the flesh.

When you tilt your head up to look at Felix you notice him pulling his pants and boxers down past his thighs, letting his cock spring free and resting at your face. He taps it against your cheek and he looks down at you, silently checking to make sure you’re okay. Looking up at him with bright wide eyes you blink, asking him for permission as you open your mouth wide for him.

He pushes in with a groan, letting his cock rest on your tongue for a second. You suckle on his tip and let your tongue swirl around his head, watching how reactive he is with amusement. Even though you haven’t fully started sucking him off yet he is breathy, eyes dark in the way he looks at you and strokes your hair.

He pushes his length further into your mouth and you groan, taking him fully. He sets the pace, slow and languid, pulling his cock fully out of your mouth before shoving it back in with expertise.

You barely register the hands behind you that grab your ass until you feel Chan’s tip prodding at your entrance, barely pushing inside you. You let out a shaky breath around Felix and Chan takes that as a sign to push into you fully.

The stretch is welcoming. Your jaw goes slack as you take a moment to process the protrusion, clenching tightly around him as he stills. Felix uses your mouth now, setting the rhythm for the man behind you as well. Relaxing, you let yourself be used by both of the men. You feel Chan’s thighs smack the back of yours, wet and messy and relentless. This causes you to jerk forward, pushing you back and forth onto Felix’s cock. Chan’s hands press into your hips, desperate and harsh and sure to leave bruises in its wake.

“God, love, your mouth,” Felix moans. His hand in your hair is soft in its caresses, contradictory from the way his hips snap into your face ruthlessly. “You’re doing so fucking good for us, baby. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? For Chan to fuck you nice and hard, yeah? For me to whisper filthy things in your ear?”

You do what you can to nod your head, though it’s pathetic with the way your mouth is full of him. You know you look utterly debauched, absolutely used from the two men you’ve found yourself in between. The mascara you applied before is running down your face along with tears of pleasure, and you find yourself continuously blinking them away to look up at Felix. Your hands find place on the bed beside you, fingers curling into the sheets. You’re close, incredibly so, and you know it’s not much longer until you come over the edge.

Felix lets out a low groan and you feel his cock twitch in your mouth. With a sharp grasp on your hair he spills into your mouth, right down your throat in hot spurts. You swallow around him thickly and he pulls out, wiping a bit of spit off of your mouth with his thumb.

You fall forward into Felix’s lap, arching your back in order to give Chan full access to your dripping hole. He takes full advantage of it, fucking into you with reckless abandon. Now that your mouth is free, you have full opportunity to speak–though, the only thing that comes out of your mouth now are loud moans and broken, choked sobs.

“Chan, fuck, oh my, I’m gonna cum, fuck I’m gonna come–” you babble.

“Sweet girl, is he fucking you stupid?” Felix asks, wrapping his arms around you and making you look into his eyes. When you meet his gaze you nod your head sporadically.

Chan grunts from behind you, his hips starting to stutter. “Fuck, Lix. I’m close,” he warns. “Touch her pretty clit for me, make her cum for us.” Felix does as instructed, snaking his hand down to where Chan pushes in and out between your bodies. “So good, love. Cum for us,” he says into your ear.

His fingers barely brush your clit when you’re cumming hard around Chan’s cock, squeezing around his length hard. He rocks his hips into yours, helping you ride out your release before he pulls out and cums all over your ass. You’re whining and clutching onto Felix, though you don’t realize it; his hand runs small circles onto your back. When he looks down at you it’s as if you hung the stars, gaze so full of adoration that your heart batters against your chest in response loud enough that he very well might hear it.

Somewhere behind you, Chan leaves and then returns with something to clean you up. You only know this when you feel the soft material on your back and you let out a grunt of appreciation. Chan sits next to you now, spooning you from the side where you lay across Felix’s body.

“Are you okay?” Chan speaks softly.

You scoff. “I just fucked the two people I’ve been in love with for years. You think I’m not okay?”

“Love. You love us?” Felix asks.

You laugh. You can’t help it, because how the fuck do you keep on embarrasing yourself like this? It’s as if they can read your mind, because before you can backtrack or word-vomit they’re already speaking.

“I don’t know if I made this clear,” Chan starts. “But my feelings for you, they’re strong. I love you too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Same here, love. We’ve wanted this for forever. If you’ll let us have you, we want you to be ours.” He whispers a soft ‘I love you’ into your hair and you find yourself overcome with emotion.

The movie is still playing on the TV. It makes you laugh when you realize something.

“Did you both seriously invite me over for dinner just so you could seduce me?”

“Hey hey!” Chan laughs, tickling your side for a moment. “You’re the one that begged for us to ruin you, babygirl. Did you get what you wanted?”

“I don’t know,” you say, pretending to be in thought. “I’m not feeling super ruined at the moment.”

“That can be arranged.”

*** Last installment of the threesome series <3 Thank you everyone for reading. If you want to check out the other three chapters, you can find them in my masterlist.

Taglist: @lolareadsimagines @elizalabs3 @chvn-max

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joequiinn · 2 days

Text

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 7

[chap six] | [all chapters here]

summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

a/n: Sooo, I did not mean to take a three week hiatus from this fic :) I had so much of this chapter written within a couple of days and then abruptly stopped writing entirely, literally couldn't work on any of my stories. But now the writers block has passed and we FINALLY have an update, and boy these chapters just keep getting longer as the story goes on. I hope this one makes up from my recent absence~

wc: 6.6k

Chapter Seven

Wednesday morning was supposed to start like it always did - small talk with your mom over a bowl of cereal and then running out the door before the conversation whittled down to awkwardness. You wish you could appreciate your mother’s efforts to try to connect with you, but she never asked about anything beyond school and skating - once those two subjects were exhausted, it was as if you two had nothing more to talk about.

But today was different. Today, your dad was actually sitting at the breakfast table instead of rushing to his office before you even came downstairs. Today, your head was a little fuzzy from drinking the night before. Today, you wished you had just run out the door and skipped breakfast, because you could see right away that your parents wanted to have a conversation.

You paused briefly in the kitchen entry, looking between the two before trying to act casual, walking towards the pantry and preparing a quick breakfast. You could feel their eyes following you, and damn did you wish someone would just say something. Your father always acted like this before a serious conversation - he stayed silent to intimidate you, to put you on edge in hopes that it would make you more pliable to what he had to say. You’d always assumed he did this to clients and business associates as well, as if to suggest some kind of dominance over them. Well, you weren’t going to let it get to you that easily, you never did before.

You sat at the opposite end of the table from your father, your mom hovering at the kitchen sink although there were no dishes to be cleaned. You started to eat as if you were totally unphased by their watchful eyes, as if you were entirely oblivious to their stares, although you knew neither of them bought the act for a second. One of you was going to cave eventually, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be you.

Sure enough, your mom spoke first as she approached the table, just like you expected her to, “You have practice after school today?”

You gave her a critical look before nodding - you knew that she knew you always skated on Wednesday, making that a pretty pathetic attempt at breaking the tension in the room.

“Are you actually going?” Your father asked in an accusatory tone, although he maintained a neutral expression so as not to give away what he was thinking.

You couldn’t help the mean look in your eyes as you met his intense gaze. Your tone was stubborn and cold, “Yes.”

“And will that boy be there?” The disdain in your father’s words was clear as day. Your brow knotted at the question, both because you didn’t like his tone and because you wondered how he found out about Eddie already.

“Boy?” Your tone was mocking - you weren’t feigning ignorance, but rather presenting your father with a challenge, daring him to elaborate on what had gotten his mood so twisted. And it was clear in his face that he didn’t appreciate your attitude one bit.

“Mrs. Redford saw you two together on Friday.” Your mother chimed in, hoping to serve as the calm mediary considering that you and your father were both intense, mean people.

Of course it was Mrs. Redford who told your mom about Eddie - she was such a damn gossip, and with her daughter participating in your skating lessons, you should have known she would have noticed you leaving with Eddie that night. She was drawn to drama and gossip as if it was the air she breathed, so it was certainly no surprise that she ran off to tell your parents about this new boy that she spotted you with.

“Why does it matter?” You dropped your spoon in the forgotten breakfast that sat in front of you, slouching into your seat in growing frustration.

“Because he’s clearly a troublemaker.” Your dad’s tone matched yours, causing you to roll your eyes, “Don’t you dare roll your eyes at me.”

Your jaw clenched at the threat in his voice, “How could you possibly know someone is trouble without even meeting them?”

Your father pressed his palm to the table firmly, “Because I know his type - a lazy punk only interested in skating by and disrespecting the establishment. I’m a good judge of character.”

“How?” You insisted with exasperation, causing your father to look down on you as if you were some stupid kid.

“You were out way past curfew last night - were you with him?” Your dad glowered, and evidently your expression gave him the answer he wanted, “You ran out the door without telling your mother where you were going or who you were with. She saw you climb into some van, for Christ sake. And the way Mrs. Redford described this hoodlum? The leather, the hair, the tattoos? What’s gotten into you?”

You held your ground firmly, glaring as you crossed your arms, “I don’t see what the issue is.”

“The issue is you’re acting out, you’re avoiding us, and this boy you’re seeing seems to be encouraging this behavior!” Your father raised his voice, “I don’t care that you’re eighteen now, you still live under my roof.”

“You don’t care about anything!” You can’t help but shout back, “You only care now because you’re worried I’ll make you look bad. You’re worried about stupid gossip!”

“That’s not what this is about!”

“We’re just worried about you,” Your mother tried to intervene in an even tone, drawing the attention of the both of you, “We don’t want you to lose sight of what’s important just because of a boy.”

You throw up your hands in defiance, your voice harsh, “What important things am I ‘losing sight of!?’”

“Don’t take that tone with your mother!” Your dad jumped back in, “The last thing you need your senior year is some punk distracting you from school, from skating. You need to consider your future. Don’t you want to get into a good school? Don’t you want to skate?”

“I don’t know what I want!” You admitted angrily, “Maybe I don’t want to go to college or skate or do the shit you tell me to! Maybe I just want to enjoy life a little.”

“Enjoying life doesn’t get you anywhere.” Your father glared, “We tell you these things to help you. So, stop hanging around this boy and start focusing on your future.”

“You didn’t care what I was doing before, why do you care now?” You challenged coldly, “You didn’t care when I was out late with Duncan, you didn’t care when I’d miss practice because I’d be out with Amelia or Janet. You only care now because it’s Eddie.”

You instantly realized you shouldn’t have mentioned his name. Not yet, at least, not in the middle of this argument. Yes, you wanted your parents to know you were “dating” some new, troublesome guy, but you didn’t want them to actually know who he was yet - you had hoped to build up a little more suspense first, a little more tension between you all. You hoped your face didn’t give away what you were thinking.

“Eddie?” Your father laughed as he said the name, “You call things off with this Eddie now, do you hear me?”

You looked between your parents’ faces - your father looked as stern and condescending as ever, and your mom looked like she was away somewhere in thought. Perhaps she was trying to pinpoint any Eddies she’d heard of before and figure out who the hell he is.

A frustrated sound leapt from your throat as you rose to your feet aggressively, the legs of your chair making a grating sound on the floor.

“Whatever,” You spun around to leave, seeing the time on the wall clock before shooting your parents a mocking look, “I’m going to be late. Great job getting me back on track.”

You knew just how rude your tone was, so you practically ran out of the kitchen to avoid your father’s wrath.

“Excuse me!?” His offended voice shouted after you. You scooped up your school bag and your car keys, running out the door without looking back.

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Just like you suspected, you were late for your first period class, receiving a reprimanding from your teacher, which only served to piss you off even more. Today just wasn’t your fucking day. So, by the time you walked into your math class a couple hours later, it was actually something of a relief to see Eddie already there; why you were actually pleased to see him was a thought you weren’t quite ready to entertain.

He grinned once he spotted you, but the way you flopped into your seat caused his face to immediately twist with curiosity. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his legs situated in the aisle between you two.

“Feeling hungover, princess?” He asked with only a small jest in his tone, as if he could tell that you weren’t in the mood right now. His eyebrows furrowed together as you glared, although you knew he wasn’t the one that deserved the cold look.

“No.” You groaned, your jaw clenched tight enough to hurt your teeth. You sighed through your nose, trying to collect yourself - it was stupid to let this frustration eat at you, although you were always prone to holding onto grudges.

Eddie nudged your knee softly, so you met his eyes again. He stared at you patiently and inquisitively, “So, what’s wrong?”

You considered for a moment whether or not you wanted to tell him. With a sigh, you sat up in your seat, turning so that you mirrored Eddie, legs in the aisle and knees brushing his. You let your knees rest there, allowing the small amount of contact as if you needed it to ground you, as if you even enjoyed it.

“It’s my parents.” You start, looking down at where your knees met his. Your skirt was short and his jeans were ripped, so you were skin-to-skin. It didn’t matter, of course, you were simply trying to find something else to focus on, “They aren’t thrilled about you.”

“Oh, so you told them?” Eddie gave you a small grin, hoping to lighten your mood a little. And you wouldn’t admit it, but it was already beginning to work.

“One of my neighbors saw us together.” The bell rang in the middle of your sentence, but neither of you faced forward, eyes staying locked on one another.

“You seem pretty worked up about it.” His quiet tone had a hint of question to it, clearly wondering what exactly happened with your parents. Your teacher began going down the attendance sheet and the focus of today’s lesson.

“My dad’s a dick.” You responded in a whisper, “Just grilling me about shit - about you - as if I were a damn criminal or something.”

The sound of your name on your teacher’s lips drew your attention, and you harshly met her stare, “Would you two like to join the class now?”

You rolled your eyes as Eddie smiled lazily, the both of you turning to face forward. He reached out to give your knee one more playful nudge, as if to assure you that all would be well.

As the teacher began her lesson, you and Eddie kept stealing glances at one another conspiratorially, which helped to slowly ease the tension in your shoulders, to slowly relax your mood. After another couple of minutes, Eddie held a folded piece of paper between the two of you, obviously intending for you to read it. You slyly took it from him, fingers brushing against his as you wondered what he possibly had to say right now.

I think I can win him over.

The silly little doodle accompanying the note emphasized the joke, and you couldn’t help but grin at it just a little. You side-eyed Eddie, catching the way he smiled mischievously at you. With a roll of your eyes, you scribbled down a reply and handed it to him.

All the charm in the world wouldn’t win him over.

You watched Eddie’s face out of the corner of your eye, awaiting his reply with a hint of eagerness. The note was back in your hand once again.

So you admit I’m charming?

A small huff of a laugh escaped you as you rolled your eyes, beginning to write a response. But a presence walking down the aisle drew your attention, noticing your teacher was walking right to you. Your stomach dropped a little, realizing you were caught, but you simply looked up at her as if you did nothing wrong.

“Is there something you two would like to share with everyone?” She asked accusatory, crossing her arms in reprimand. You held her eyes with a challenging stare - god, this day just kept giving you hit after hit.

“Nothing in particular.” You retorted, hearing someone in the room make a nonplussed sound. Your teacher glowered at your attitude.

“Then I suggest you follow along or take this little conversation to detention.”

You gave her a mean, mocking smile, baring your teeth almost as if it was a threat, “I’ll take the detention, please.”

Again, more surprised sounds from the teacher and from students. You dared to look over at Eddie, who looked both taken aback and impressed at how difficult you were being today.

“Excuse me?” Your teacher challenged you.

Your eyes were dark as you stood your ground, “Detention. Please.”

The teacher looked between both you and Eddie with a huff, but a moment later a decisive look crossed her features, which put you on edge.

“Fine, if that’s how you want it to be. You can go to detention. Mr. Munson will stay here.” You gaped, your eyes glaring at the back of her head as she turned to walk back towards her desk, “No point in sending the both of you, right?”

You hated the fact that even your teacher was now mocking you, resented the fact that this day just kept piling more shit on your shoulders. You shared a look with Eddie, who looked sorry for landing you in trouble; you thought that you should’ve been upset at him for it, but you weren’t. It seemed like Eddie was the only person not getting on your last nerve today.

You rose to your feet as your teacher walked back towards you, a slip of paper in her hand outstretched to you. Haphazardly, you threw all your belongings in your bag before aggressively snatching the note from your teacher.

“You give that to the detention attendant, I don’t want to hear that you ran out on it.” She instructed with that hint of satisfaction in her tone. You glowered back at her.

“Bite me.” You spun on your heels as various students made, yet again, sounds of excitement at the harsh tone and words you threw at the teacher. As she started spewing some kind of reprimand that you weren’t listening to, you marched out of the room.

What a fucking day. You stomped down the hall, steam practically coming from your ears with how pissed off you were. In annoyance, you balled up the detention slip and tossed it at the nearest trash can, although you missed, which irritated you even more.

You’d never gotten detention before. Under different circumstances, you probably would have been thrilled to be sent to detention, to finally be enough trouble for a teacher to send you off. But after the morning you’ve been having, all you could feel was frustration.

Less than a minute after you stomped out of math class, you heard a door swing open and hit a wall somewhere behind you, prompting you to turn towards the noise. And once you saw who it was, you couldn’t help but smile with a surprising sense of glee.

Eddie Munson, your knight in shining armor.

He dashed down the hall to catch up with you, smiling just as widely as you were as he practically skidded to a halt in front of you. A small laugh escaped you as he hunched over in an attempt to catch his breath. He looked up at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Let’s get out of here.” He instructed simply, grabbing your wrist and dragging you down the hall with him. You allowed yourself to be led through the school, your smile settling into a simple, pleased smirk, relieved to have Eddie’s company.

“And where are we off to?” You asked, receiving a shrug from Eddie. Once you two had turned into a new hallway, he slowed so you could walk side-by-side, experimentally sliding his hand into yours. Once again, you still felt hesitant at more intimate contact such as this, but you allowed it without cringing too hard.

“Anywhere but here, you troublemaker.” He teased with a content smile, guiding you towards the school exit.

“So, we’re skipping?” You inquired, and you had to admit the idea really appealed to you right now - you’d had enough of today, and if you didn’t escape you thought you might explode with utter frustration.

“If that’s alright with you, princess.” Eddie gave you a silly expression while bumping your shoulder.

“Please get me the hell out of here.”

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The most time you’d ever spent in a video arcade was for one pathetic round of Galaga while on a date with a boy your freshman year. Following that, you decided arcades weren’t for you - they were always crowded with a bunch of kids running around and shouting, and you’d branded all the adults that spent time at arcades as total losers. What could possibly be so appealing about games designed for children?

So, when Eddie pulled up in front of the Palace Arcade, you gave him a critical look, which he chose to ignore entirely as he stepped out of the van. He rounded to your side and opened the door, offering you a hand like a royal stepping out of a coach. You looked between his hand and his face for a moment, still judging the choice to come to an arcade. Reading the look on your face all too well, Eddie pulled his own affronted expression.

“What, too good for arcade games?” He put on an over-the-top, almost Shakespearean tone while placing a melodramatic hand to his chest, “But I’ve brought you to the Palace, the finest establishment in town for the ice princess.”

You rolled your eyes and tried not to laugh at him, unwilling to admit that even Eddie’s dumbest jokes were starting to win you over. Nonetheless, you took his outstretched hand with a large sigh, stepping out of the van despite your lack of interest in this place. Eddie, of course, smiled triumphantly, closing the door behind you and leading you into the arcade.

Given that it was only about noon, the place was virtually dead, which was quite the relief - no need to worry about loud, annoying kids getting in the way. Aside from the two of you and the Palace employee, there was a group of three college-aged boys clustered around Frogger and a lone man focused on something called Paperboy. None of the patrons looked up when you and Eddie entered, and the only reason the employee took any note of you is because it was simply his job. Of course, once he spotted you, he did a double-take.

The employee’s jaw hung slack as if in disbelief, and he nervously greeted you two, trying to keep his attention on Eddie. It appeared that the two were familiar with one another, and you wondered if Eddie really spent that much time here or if maybe this was a guy that used to go to school with the two of you. Either way, their interaction wrapped up quickly, and Eddie dragged you to the change machine.

As Eddie inserted a few bills, you looked around at the other arcade patrons, who finally seemed to take notice of you. In the group near Frogger, one of the boys nudged his friends, insisting they both look up; none so subtly, they all looked at you as the music from their arcade cabinet seemed to signal game over. You looked back with a raised brow and cold eyes, causing them all to quickly look away, although you were certain you’d probably catch them spying again. As you gazed back at Eddie, you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your lips - there was something about being the only chick in the arcade that amused you, something about being totally out of place and totally out of Eddie’s league.

Eddie stashed the change in his pocket, holding out a few quarters that you tentatively took from his hand.

“What first, princess?” You looked at him with a judgmental expression, causing him to narrow his eyes critically, “Come on, this’ll be fun.”

“Sure…” You looked around and assessed the arcade, pointing at the nearest cabinet without any consideration, “That one.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh at your choice while shaking his head, knowing you didn’t care one bit what game you started with, “Dig Dug, huh?”

You made another face at him, so he simply rolled his eyes and led you towards the game. He leaned against the cabinet while crossing his arms, giving you an expectant look; in turn, your brow scrunched.

Eddie shrugged, “Well, go for it - this one was your idea.”

“I don’t want to.” You responded as if affronted by the suggestion, “You play.”

Eddie once again rolled his eyes with an exacerbated grin, “I don’t play Dig Dug.”

“Then play something else.” You instructed stubbornly.

“You aren’t getting out of this one.” Eddie countered, motioning towards the cabinet he still rested against, “So, be a big girl and play the game.”

You gaped at his response, feeling a slight stir at his word choice. There was a challenging glint in his eyes that suggested he wasn’t going to back down easily, that he could volley with you all damn day. As you closed your mouth with a small purse to your lips, you looked around the arcade with a raised brow.

“I don’t want to play that one.” You crossed your arms, to which Eddie once more smirked at your stubborn determination.

“Then choose a different one.” He responded while mimicking your body language.

You narrowed your eyes at him before your gaze studied the rows of arcade cabinets, recognizing none of the names. This was something you were grossly uneducated on, arcades making just about as much sense to you as a foreign language. It wasn’t until you finally recognized the name of one that you allowed yourself to meet Eddie’s stare again.

“Okay. That one.” You once again pointed past his shoulder, so Eddie twisted around to see which cabinet finally caught your interest. A faint laugh escaped him as he looked back to you with an amused expression across his face.

“Oh, you wouldn’t like Donkey Kong.” His tone seemed to be daring you to argue, to prove him wrong. You pulled another face at him.

“I don’t like any of these. But I’ve seen that stupid monkey before.” Eddie shrugged in acceptance of your response as he continued to grin, pushing off the Dig Dug cabinet.

“If you insist.” He taunted while turning to walk towards Donkey Kong, you following behind him with a huff. But as you were nearly there, the gang of college kids beat you to it, causing both you and Eddie to halt; he began to turn to you, prepared to ask what the new plan was now that the one cabinet you showed interest in was taken.

Of course, you weren’t about to have that. Sure, you didn’t care an ounce about these video games and you had zero interest in actually playing, but you’d already had enough today, and you’d be damned if you let these guys play Donkey Kong instead of you. So, you brushed past Eddie with a determined look, marching up to them with all the authority in the world.

“Excuse you,” You started rudely, drawing all their eyes in your direction. None of the three really looked like the nerdy type, so none of them backed down from you the way that you were used to, “I’m playing that one.”

They shared a laugh, clearly amused by your attempt to intimidate them. One of the boys countered, “You’re outta luck, we were here first.”

You insisted more firmly, “Just move.”

One of them looked between you and Eddie, provoked by your attitude, “There’s a whole arcade, go find something else to play.”

They returned to the arcade cabinet as if you weren’t even there, which pissed you off even more. You groaned loudly, looking at Eddie and pointing harshly at the boys as if there was something he could possibly do about them. He simply shook his head and grabbed your elbow, lightly tugging you along.

“They beat us to it.” He said as if there was some unspoken arcade rule that you weren’t familiar with. You glared at the boys as Eddie led you down the row, grinning as if to calm you down, “Come on, I got something I think you’ll like.”

“Doubtful.” You countered like a child, catching the way Eddie smiled to himself, both amused and enervated by your attitude. The two of you came to a halt in front of something called Tapper, and you glanced up at Eddie, awaiting an explanation.

“This one’s easy,” he started while presenting the cabinet to you, “Just serve drinks.”

“Okay…” You took in the pixelated graphics on the screen, hesitantly holding up a coin as you considered the game.

“Come on, just give it a try.” Eddie urged. You looked at the simple instructions next to the joystick while finally loading the coin into the machine. As the game began, Eddie turned his attention to the next cabinet over.

Eddie was right about this game being easy, at least for the first few rounds, although once you reached the first “game over” screen you groaned with frustration. That didn’t stop you from inserting another coin and trying again, much to Eddie’s amusement. You were getting the hang of this and, although you weren’t ready to admit it, you were coming to even enjoy Tapper.

Eventually, you ran out of coins, so you returned your attention to Eddie, who had been caught up in his own game. You watched him for a few moments before realizing the college boys were no longer at the Donkey Kong cabinet. Although you shouldn’t have cared so much, you nonetheless felt a sudden eagerness to run over and hog the game you previously missed out on. Hell, you didn’t even know what that game was about, but considering your previous snub, you now simply had to play this damn game.

So, you turned your gaze back to Eddie, who was incredibly focused on the shooting game he was in the middle of, “Donkey Kong is open.”

“So, go play.” He responded with a far off tone, clearly caught up in what he was doing.

“I don’t have any coins.”

In an almost silly motion, Eddie nudged his hip in your direction, “I have some in my pocket.”

You looked down towards his hips, wondering why he didn’t simply pull his hand from the game for a moment to give you a few coins.

Impatiently, his eyes flicked over to you for only a moment; he could tell what you were thinking, “Just reach in and grab a few.”

“Uh, no.” Your voice oozed with attitude.

“Then no Donkey Kong.” He replied with a simple shrug. With a slight glare, you looked between his face and the screen, watching his hectic game for a few long moments. Your gaze drifted back towards Donkey Kong with a mild longing, but you quickly righted yourself - you did not care that much about a stupid arcade game. You could wait until Eddie was done, you didn’t need to play it that bad.

The sound of the front door opening drew your attention as a new man entered the arcade, and your first thought was “shit, is he going to play Donkey Kong?” Why the hell did you care so much? But you couldn’t risk missing out on the game again, so you returned your attention back to Eddie, taking him by total surprise as you reached into his pocket and extracted a handful of coins quickly before you could think about how intimate that action was.

“Jesus, warn a guy before you go digging around in his pants.” Eddie chided with a playful grin, not allowing his gaze to stray from the shooter in front of him.

“Shut up.” You countered while marching towards Donkey Kong, determination etched across your face as you relished in the stupid victory of finally being about to play this damn game.

Of course, you very quickly learned why Eddie had told you before that you wouldn’t like Donkey Kong. Your dumb little man in overalls lost all his lives within the first minute of you playing, and you let out an exasperated sigh as you slapped your hand down on the control panel. With a glare, you loaded another coin in, but due to your frustration you died even quicker than you had the first time, letting out another upset sound before you marched away from Donkey Kong as if the game had personally offended you.

Eddie was still focused on Robotron as you returned to his side with a huff, the sound causing the corner of his mouth to pull up. You glared at his face, “That game is stupid.”

“I told you.” He answered simply, amused by how easily you gave up on it.

“Why doesn’t it work?”

“Have you considered that you’re just bad at it?” Eddie’s eyes briefly look at you, that annoying grin of his not faltering for a moment. Your glare darkened as you turned to walk off, but Eddie’s voice stopped you from going anywhere, “Oh, come on, just wait. I’ll show you how to play the stupid monkey game.”

So, you waited impatiently for Eddie’s game to end, your eyes repeatedly drifting over to Donkey Kong as if in fear that someone else would take the machine from you. Once he was finally done with Robotron, Eddie gave you a teasing look, knowing that you were eager to return to the game that you supposedly didn’t like. With an adamant look, you spun around and marched back towards the machine, knowing that he was following right behind you.

“Just watch, I’ll play the first level for you.” Eddie instructed while loading in the money. He craned his neck back and forth, shaking out his arm as if he were warming up for some epic fight; you nearly smiled, but kept it to yourself. You leaned over Eddie’s shoulder a little as he began, “You have to be fast - this machine has a bit of a lag, so you need to think ahead.”

So, you watched Eddie play, annoyed at just how easy he made it look; evidently, he had a fair amount of practice. And with the first level completed in what appeared to be record time, Eddie stepped back, yanking you quickly in front of the screen to take over the controls. Just as quickly as the level started, though, you lost a life, jumping right into the line of a pixelated enemy. A frustrated noise left you, causing Eddie to laugh from behind you.

“You’ve got two more lives,” He stepped up closer to you, reaching around to put his hand over the jump button, “Lemme help.”

Working together, you managed to make a little bit of progress, but you all too quickly lost again, shoving the joystick in the wrong direction. As you huffed in annoyance once more, Eddie placed his free hand on the small of your back as if to remind you to calm down, the touch nearly causing you to jump from its gentleness.

“Okay, new plan.” Eddie stepped behind you, close enough that your back bumped against his chest. Your shoulders stiffened as he settled his hands on top of yours, your heart skipping as you realized you were pinned between him and the stupid Donkey Kong machine. Thank god he was behind you, because otherwise he would’ve seen the way your cheeks went red, the way your eyes widened with surprise.

You could feel Eddie’s breath against your ear, practically causing you to shudder, “Alright, let’s do this.”

As the level started again, you were grateful that Eddie was taking the reins, controlling your hands with his own, because your brain was way too jumbled to think clearly. Why the hell were you so nervous? How was Eddie Munson doing this to you? You were certain it had more to do with your disdain for people touching you, but you were far too confused to even begin to entertain why you felt so anxious with Eddie practically flush against your back.

You were so zoned out that you hadn’t even realized that the level was complete until Eddie stepped back, a victorious little laugh escaping him. Before you had time to even get your head on straight, the third level began, but you all too quickly fumbled, your game coming to a pathetic end. Composing yourself, you meet Eddie’s eyes with total coolness, hoping that the redness of your cheeks had gone away. His expression didn’t seem to indicate that he noticed anything off about you, so you took a deep breath.

“Help me again.” You instructed as you fished a coin from your pocket. Eddie looked mildly surprised by the instruction, as if he too was just realizing how intimate his assistance was the first time. You simply raised a brow at him while loading the machine with money, straightening your shoulders as he came up behind you once again.

You tried to focus on the game this time as Eddie placed his hands on top of yours again, doing your best to ignore how warm he was behind you, the way his cheek brushed against the crown of your head, how his grip on your hands seemed to be a little bit more firm. You took a couple of deep breaths and focused, approaching this the same way you did skating - with attentiveness to the goal. And your goal was to ignore Eddie and actually beat a level of this god damn monkey game.

So, you watched your little man run and jump across the screen studying the timing as Eddie moved your hands with his own, noting the subtle delay between the control command and the character movement on the screen. Even as you began to understand, you still recognized that it wasn’t going to be easy for you to beat as a total novice to gaming. As the first level came to an end, Eddie began to step back, his hands hovering just over yours, but you turned your head quickly, practically bumping foreheads as he stopped pulling away.

“Wait, one more round.” You instructed, his face so close to yours that you practically went cross-eyed trying to meet his gaze. You saw Eddie’s jaw clench slightly before you faced forward again, his hands settling on top of yours once way.

By the time you two completed the second level, you were grinning triumphantly, satisfied that you were winning, even if only because Eddie was helping you. As the screen went black for a brief moment, you glanced at the content expression of Eddie behind you, feeling his chin move against your head as he, too, smiled largely.

Instead of pulling away, Eddie asked simply, “One more?”

You hummed in agreement as the third level started, once more studying Eddie’s timing as he breezed through the game as if he’d played it a hundred times. For all you knew, he probably had. Just like with his guitar, Eddie’s hands moved with expertise, guiding yours with ease as you two once again completed the course on screen. This time, you let Eddie step back, feeling a little nervous as you realized you had to face Donkey Kong alone again. You also felt a very mild wave of disappointment, but you quickly shoved that aside so you could focus on your game.

But, of course, you struggled without Eddie’s assistance, fumbling the jump time and losing a life. You took a deep breath through your nose as you tried to focus, feeling Eddie’s gaze burning into you as the level started over. You tried to ignore the intensity of his stare as you started again, running through the level as fast as you could. You managed to get much farther than before, but you nonetheless made another mistake.

You looked towards Eddie, prepared to ask him for help, but he shut you down before you got a word out, “Oh no, you wanted to play this, remember? I can’t keep playing for you.”

You pouted only for a moment, returning your attention to the screen, trying and failing once more to beat the game. You threw your head back with an annoyed groan, stepping away from Donkey Kong while crossing your arms.

“I don’t see why people play this stupid game, it’s impossible.” You whined, causing Eddie to laugh while rolling his eyes.

“That’s the point - it’s challenging. You can’t be a winner all the time.” He teased while dipping his head down closer to yours, seeing right through your frustrations. To Eddie, it was obvious that you weren’t used to losing, and he loved how worked up you were getting over an arcade game of all things.

“If I’m not going to win, then I don’t want to play.” You countered childishly, your eyebrow raised as if daring him to comment on that. You spun on your heel and began to walk away from the offensive game cabinet, hearing Eddie following behind you.

“That’s part of the fun, ya know.” He started. You half expected him to sling his arm over your shoulders as he normally did, but this time he refrained, as if all that contact during Donkey Kong was just a little too much for one day. You threw him a look.

“Well, it’s not fun for me.” You weren’t sure where the hell you were walking off to considering that there wasn’t anywhere in the Palace to hide, but you were too caught up in simply being stubborn. Eddie laughed, rolling his eyes with a hint of fondness as he lightly snagged your arm and stopped you. You met eyes, Eddie grinning at your attitude that he was quickly becoming accustomed to.

“You say that now, but I guarantee you’ll be asking me to bring you back.” He teased, receiving a small glare from you in response. He shook his head a little, “Let’s go, your pouting is making this no fun.”

You could tell Eddie was just taunting you, so you gave his shoulder a small shove while pulling away from his hold. You wouldn’t dare admit that you actually had some fun, so instead you began for the exit, your tone nonchalant as you responded, “Thank god, if I stay here any longer the nerds might try to convert me.”

Behind you, Eddie shook his head fondly as he followed you out.

additional a/n: shoutout to Tapper for being my favorite arcade game

taglist: @a-queen-blr @avalon-wolf @costellation-hunter @daisy-munson

@daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @eddiernunson

@em0220 @frogtape @fromasgardandback @fckyeahlames @kthomps914

@lotrefcp @love-anonymous-writer @marrowfrog00 @mewchiili @miaajaade

@munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @rach5ive @sav12321 @sheneedsrocknroll92

@steeldaisies @stormgrl19

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #em #dos and donts

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notsunnyowo · 17 hours

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Iᖴ YOᑌ ᑕᗩᑎ'T ᗷEᗩT TᕼEᗰ - ᒍOIᑎ 'Eᗰ

ᑭᗩᖇT 2

Part 1

Summary: After experiencing the thrill of being flustered for the first time - Satoru Gojo decides he needs to feel it again

Content: Fluff, Flirt! Gojo, Female! Reader (AFAB), Teen! Gojo x Teen! Reader (Reader is the same age as Gojo)

Word Count: 631

Satoru Gojo was on a mission.

Get the pretty new girl in his class to flirt back with him.

Ever since getting a taste of what it felt like to be on the receiving end of the flirting game, Satoru was hooked.

He desperately needed to feel the same emotions the new girl had somehow managed to stir within him.

And he was going to get what he wanted.

He always did.

And so- That's how his 'mission' started.

After that fateful day in your classroom, Satoru stepped up his game. He was a determined young fella. One that, when he set his mind to something, did everything in his power to obtain his goal.

Yet despite Satoru's persistence, you didn't seem to be doing what he was hoping for so desperately. That, however, didn't necessarily mean that his actions weren't getting to you. You hadn't even realized it when you started to actually enjoy his flirting attempts.

"Oh? What's this?" Satoru chirped, large frame shifting as he looked down at you. "You, giving me the time of day?" He grinned. Earlier that day, Satoru had come to you with another cheezy pick-up line and you'd actually giggled at it. To say that the young sorcerer was ecstatic would be an understatement. He was on cloud nine. "What's changed?" He cooed, tone dropping an octave as he continued. "Finally admit I'm hot as hell?~" Looking back at him, you tried to hold your serious expression, you really did, but there was something about the way Satoru had you practically pinned against the wall made your expression falter. You could feel the rosy blush slowly climbing up your neck, threatening to tint your checks with its vibrant rosy color. "You wish." Your reply was short, for you feared that if you were to continue speaking Gojo might notice the falter in your voice. You mentally scolded yourself for the way your heart thumped faster with each passing moment you spent so close to him. Letting out an amused chuckle Satoru teased. "You're such a bad liar, sweetcheeks." Gently raising a hand to grab your chin, forcing you to look straight up at him he continued. "You know I've been trying to date you for how long..? -Think it's been around six months." He said referring to somewhere in the beginning of the school year. "And yet, you're still givin' me the cold shoulder." God he was so close. Way too close. "What's a guy gotta do to get a date with you huh?" His words were so smooth, rolling off his tongue with practiced ease. You'd think they were some rehearsed lines for a romance movie. As your eyes met with his, you could feel the way your body reacted to him. The way goosebumps traveled across your torso to your arms, not to mention the way heat rushed to your cheeks. Fuck it. "That's what you want?" You asked, shooing his hand away from your face. "Fine then. You can take me out on a date this weekend." Did he hear that right? Did you really just agree to go out on a date with him? And that easily?? There it was again. That familiar warm feeling in his chest. Satoru looked back at you, his checks involuntarily turning a soft shade of pink. If you only knew the things you did to him. "Pick you up at seven, sweetcheeks." Quickly composing himself the young man took a step back from you. And with that he left, mostly because Satoru wasn't sure how much longer he could hold his excitement in him and not let it show. Meanwhile you were left there staring at his retreating form, with an amused smile on your lips. "Let's see what you've got, Satoru Gojo."

Author Note:

Wrote this while I was supposed to be sleeping so it might not be the best-

Regardless I hope you had fun reading! :)

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iwriteyanderes2023 · 12 hours

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Yandere Socialite (Fem! Yandere x Fem! Reader)

Divider credits: @/anitalenia

Trigger warning: Violence, drama between friends, profanity usage, yandere themes, name-calling, sexual harassment, power abuse. Choking, pet play, humiliation, drugging, sexual scenes, bondage play, female on female

(8941 words)

You regretted agreeing to this.

Your friends were raving about this massive party, where all the hottest celebrities and the wealthy go to flaunt or make a fool out of themselves. Obviously, it was an exclusive event, no mere commoners could simply walk in. To enter, it's either paying an extravagant fee or be (in)famous enough. Which, you were neither.

They claimed to know how to sneak in, undetected by the burly bouncers that you would rather not be the receiving end of their anger. It made sense to have some tight security, it is taking place in someone's mansion; someone's home, after all.

You, being new in this city and desperate to make connections to you could advance your career, said yes. You stupidly said yes, put on your best clubbing outfit and makeup, and went through with your friend's plan to slip in through one of the back doors while the other distracted whoever was around to hinder the plans.

Which leads you to be lost in a seemingly unending maze of hallways, you don't know where the other girls went and you don't know where you are. There wasn't a single soul wandering around the carpeted floor and chandeliered ceilings. Elegant paintings of men and women in dignified poses seem to peer at you in disgust; a filthy commoner dressed like a tramp. You didn't belong here, and it's only a matter of time before you were thrown into jail thanks to the recorded footage from the surveillance cameras you're sure were pointed at you.

You covered your arms with your hands as you moved onward, cussing under your breath about how silly it was to wear a ridiculously tall heel. It's already giving you blisters, so you decide to take them off and walk barefoot; silently and dryly sobbing about how humiliating this feels.

You continued trundling on, periodically looking back and trying to see where the life of the party is at so you could at least witness how it's like. Perhaps make a few connections, but you think that's unlikely. Most of them are probably drunk out of their mind or high off coke to care.

Actually, what are you even doing here? You're supposed to be networking at a classy, evening soiree, not a rich boy's messy party!

Before you could sigh again, you were interrupted by the sounds of yelling in a room nearby.

"Get off me, fucker!" You heard an enraged feminine voice shout out before the sounds of crashing reached your ears. Groaning could be heard as you assume the other party was shuffling to get up.

"You fucking bitch!" Retorted a masculine voice, followed by more stumbling. "What the hell is wrong with you!?"

"We're over. Get the fuck out of my sight!" She yelled, but it doesn't sound like she was too hurt over it. It's more anger if anything.

"What...? Just like that?! After everything that I've done-"

"All you did was embarrass me over and over again! Like, does it kill you to take a shower? Does it kill you not to be an entitled, gross loser all the time?"

You inched closer to the door and discreetly poked your head in. You saw the back of a woman with the most gorgeous blond hair draping down to her tailbone. She's wearing a silver sequin dress that barely covers the fold of her bum.

The male, slightly drunk and injured from the shove with debris around him, was glaring at the blonde.

"Shut up, slut! If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't get to live like this!" He threateningly pointed at her, but she didn't budge.

"Oh? You mean that monthly allowance of fifty bucks from you? Please, I pick up my dogs' crap with it. That's how worthless you are to me, I'm only tolerating you because I'm doing your mommy a favour." She fought back, her words enraged the man even further.

"You can forget the deal our families had! I'll make sure the Maciovelli name goes to shit, you will be living on the streets before you know it!" He yelled right in front of her face, getting up close and personal; and having his stray spit hit her. She merely wiped them away.

"Ugh, you're insufferable. Whatever, I'd like to see you try, bitch." She hissed before shoving him away again.

But this proved to be a dangerous move, as it provoked the man to lunge and swing his arm at her. Luckily though, it seems she has predicted it and dodged his attack on time.

You had to do something! And so, you looked around as the pair went on to physically fight. Though, it's more like she's doing all the defense while he does the offense. Sometimes blocking his hits with her red handbag.

There is a vase nearby, decorated with intricate, hand-painted flowers. Without thinking, you picked it up and chucked it at the man. The antiquity of that piece of art be damned, that woman is in danger and you have to do something to help her!

She visibly jolted when it flew past some strands of gold and crashed onto her assailant's head, spraying shards everywhere and making small cuts on her legs. He was thrown backward and rendered unconscious almost immediately.

The woman whipped her head back to see the source of it, staring at you with wide, baby-blue eyes. You stared back at her breathtakingly stunning face; she had thin, sharp brown eyebrows that accentuated her fox-like eyes. Long, black eyelashes framed her iris as smokey makeup made her eyes look much bigger and lively. Her lips were glossy and in a shade of pastel pink, with a dusting of sparkly glitter.

You stammered, not knowing what to do or say. You're not even supposed to be here. So you remained silent as you and her continued this staring contest, the woman's eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe.

She began walking towards you, her heels menacingly clicking against the marbled floor of that room. You felt a surge of panic course through you, so you took a few steps back.

Only to be grabbed by the shoulder by someone else behind you. Chills ran down your spine when you heard the familiar sound of a walkie-talkie beeping. "I found one of the trespassers."

You started panicking even more, speaking erratically to try and defend your case. But the security officer wouldn't hear it, instead restraining you and pulling you away from the scene. You thrashed and screamed, not wanting to get caught and end your life as soon as it started. "I need backup!" Shouted the guard into his device as he tried to wrangle you into his grip.

You shouldn't have agreed to them, look what it has gotten you into. Your life is so over, you're going to be shoved into a jail cell and forced to move back to where you came from. If only you could-

"Hey, you fatass!" You saw her red, crescent handbag whack the officer in the arm, he flinched in surprise. "Hands off my best friend! And who the fuck do you think you are, calling her a trespasser!?"

A look of surprise crosses his face. "Miss Maciovelli? She's with you?" The officer took a look at you, there wasn't an aura of money emanating from you, not like how the woman was.

You looked back at the woman, now putting her hands on her hips. An irate expression adorns her face, "Um, yeah? I just said it, are you fucking slow? Let her go right now!" She demanded, raising the volume of her voice as her patience was running thin.

He sighed and released his hold on you. The man brought his walkie-talkie up to his mouth and said that it was a false alarm and that there wasn't a need for more of them to come over. They should focus on finding the rest of the intruders, which you can guess that they were referring to your friends.

"I'm sorry, Miss Maciovelli-"

"Yeah, you better be." She spat as she hooked her arm around yours. "Insulting my girl like that- why don't you all actually do your jobs and kick the real troublemakers out? Like that pig there, taking a nap on the floor. He tried to hit me and my best friend!" The blonde pointed her ivory-white acrylic nail to her bleeding ex, who seemed to be slowly regaining consciousness.

His eyes widened as he seemed to recognize the waking man. "O-oh! That's-!"

Before he could finish his sentence, the woman dragged you away from the scene. Pushing you by the shoulders and pulling you by the hand. You looked behind you to see the security guard entering the room while frantically speaking into his walkie-talkie.

"You're new. What's your name?" You were snapped out of your frazzled trance when she spoke. Her pace was slowing into a leisurely walk when she deemed it safe enough. The blonde's arm was still linked around yours, though.

Her baby blues curiously stared at you, all that malice and rage she held earlier was gone. Replaced with friendliness with a bit of wariness.

You told her your name and stumbled over your words trying to explain your situation as fast as possible. You made sure to thank her for saving you.

"Your friends are gross for abandoning you like that." She scowled. "I hate fake bitches like them, they should like, get shot in the head or something."

Your mouth gape open at her extreme remarks. Is this how socialites usually talk?

You defended your friends, telling her that they didn't abandon you. They probably just lost you as everyone scrambled to hide from security.

"Yeah, you're definitely new here. They knew what they were doing. You came with five others, at least one should be hiding from security with you." She brought you into a grandiose bathroom. The blonde finally lets you go and approaches the vanity. "Those sluts used you."

Miss Maciovelli pulled a tube of lip gloss from her mini handbag and began doing touchups. You simply watched her, not knowing what to say. Well, you should have seen it coming. Big city dwellers are known to be cutthroat, and you just met them.

"Sorry babe, but that's the reality here." She smacked her lip and wiped away any imperfections with her thumb.

You scratched the back of your head. You asked her if she could show you the exit, it's been a long night and you want to go home.

"You don't wanna stay for a little?" She asked, turning to you. "You're hot, I'm sure you'll have fun. I'll get rid of those snakes for you, if that's what's holding you back."

You shook your head, feeling exhausted after everything you went through today. You asked her if she's going back to the party, wherever that may be in this mansion.

"Duh." She bobbed her head.

There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. Until she decided to fish her phone out.

"Number." She extended her hand and brought her phone, numpad side to you.

You picked it up and entered your phone number. It's saved under your name, but you doubt that she will remember you after today.

"Oh, so that's how you spell it." She mumbled, looking at the contact name.

You watch her keep her device away before fixing her hair in the mirror again. She used a nail to adjust her eyelashes.

"Okay, let's go." She linked her arm around yours again, escorting you out of the bathroom.

You and she walked past numerous rooms and halls, some had excited shouts coming from them, some had salacious moaning and some had loud booming music. When you were nearing the core of the alcohol-fueled rave, the noise from massive speakers was nearly unbearable. You even had to cover your ears in order not to blow your drums out. But the woman didn't even flinch, she continued strutting along with you in tow.

You saw men and women feverishly dancing along to the beat, the surroundings were dark and illuminated by colorful strobe lights. Good thing you weren't epileptic.

"Heyy..."

You turned your head to see one of your friends. She's wasted beyond belief. "You... you made it! C'mere, I want you to meet-"

"Fuck off, whore!" Barked Miss Maciovelli, she yanked you along with her. Ignoring the expletives coming out from your friend's slurring mouth.

You asked if that was really necessary.

"Yep. They won't get the hint if you're this nice." She answered. "They'll keep trying until you're dragged down to their level. Don't ever disrespect yourself like that." She sternly warned you.

All you could do was nod meekly.

Eventually, you reached the exit. It's as grand and fancy as it was on the inside. You see a massive water fountain in the middle of a looped road. Yet, no cars could be seen but there were hoards of security milling around.

"Wait here." She left you on the marble steps as she approached a uniformed staff member. You watched them exchange some words before she marched back to you.

You thought that this was the end of your meeting with her. So you told her thanks and bid her goodbye while referring to her as Miss Maciovelli. She scrunched her nose up in disgust.

"Ew. That's so fake. Don't call me that." She crosses her arms over her chest, and you can see pale tan lines on her skin.

You asked what you should call her instead.

"Mercedes." She replied immediately. "You know, the car."

You told her that it's a beautiful name. She smiled and flipped her hair.

You told her that you better get going, it's late. Mercedes narrowed her eyes at you and grabbed your wrist.

"And how are you going to do that? It's an hour's drive from here to the city."

You said you were going to take the bus, that's how you got here in the first place. Worst come to worst, you would call a cab.

She shook her head defiantly.

"I'm driving you home, no way am I trusting those weirdos to bring you anywhere."

You told her that you would be fine and that you didn't want to be a hassle. To that, she rolled her eyes.

"Ugh, shut up." Mercedes punched your arm playfully.

A hot pink convertible then rolled up in front of the two of you. Its headlights are heart-shaped, you thought it was cute. "Miss Maciovelli?" Said the parking Valet.

"C'mon, don't be difficult." She urged you to get in through the passenger's side.

"This is your place?" She asked with a tone of incredulity. "Looks... plain."

You wouldn't call it plain. It's small but cozy. It's also all you can afford at the moment with your job, that's why you were planning to network around to get better opportunities.

"Hm." She hummed, releasing her grip on her pink, fluffy steering wheel to fix her hair.

You got out of her car and said goodbye. She didn't say a word but watched you get to the front door.

You look behind you to see her staring, so you wave bye. But she neither budged nor returned the gesture. Simply staring at you like a hawk. Feeling a bit creeped out, you went into the lobby.

Only then did she drive away. What a strange woman.

You sighed and trudged to the lift, pressing the button and resting your forehead on the cold, metallic panel. Well. There goes your only contacts in the city, they're all not good for you.

You didn't even get to know Mercedes's number, so until she texts you first, you're completely alone.

The lift opened to reveal no one. As usual. You don't think you've seen your neighbors yet, thinking they're either avoiding you, extremely busy, or extremely reclusive. Or living in an entirely different timezone.

When you reached your room, you decided to boot up your computer. While waiting for it to be functional, you did something else; preparing the things you need for a relaxing bath and boiling some water for tonight's five-star dinner: instant noodles.

You spent the night researching Mercedes, only searching her first name predictably bringing up results of the luxury car brand with the same name. But as soon as you searched for Mercedes Maciovelli, you began learning a lot about her.

She is the heiress of a very successful, multi-billion conglomerate company. Her family owns more businesses than you can count in two hands, they're also huge and famous companies. Banks, grocery stores, and even planes. It's scary how her family possesses this much power. That was such a silly thing for her ex to say, that if it wasn't for him, she would have been in poverty. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment.

However, she is no stranger to paparazzi as she frequently mingles with high-profile celebrities, gets into physical altercations, and goes wild in nightclubs. She is nothing like what was expected of her as someone who grew up in "old money". She's associated with words like "bitchy", "fiesty", "trashy" and "Messy". Whereas her peers barely have any information available about them online, they stay out of trouble and act too elegant for the paparazzi and tabloids to take any interest.

The most interesting bit about Mercedes was her dating life. Your eyes bulged out of your skull, seeing the seemingly unending list of boyfriends she had over the years. It's almost like she has a new one every month, but there are never repeats. Articles, gossip pieces, and smear forums about Mercedes are just so prevalent, that you think you're getting a cramp on your finger by just scrolling your mouse.

In the end, you're sick of seeing the public bash the blonde. It gets old and you're becoming tired. Perhaps aging has already caught up to you, but you cannot stay up past 12.

You decided to shut your computer off and head to bed.

It's been a few days since that party. Your "friends" kept texting you, trying to get you to join one more of their trespassing escapades. You gave them excuses upon excuses because you're not interested in such a lifestyle.

"Aw, don't be such a lame-o," Drawled one of the girls as she shook your shoulder. "Come on, it'll be fun! You had fun!"

The other girls continued egging you on in this expensive cafe. You were already uncomfortable meeting them here, as you can barely afford the cheapest of their pastries. At least the ambiance looks amazing in photos. If only you owned a digital camera...

You let out a nervous chuckle as you tried to decline as much as you could without offending them.

"There's another one tonight! You should totally come with us, I got like, the routes and everything already!"

"Yeah, think of the cute guys that's going to be there!"

"OMG, I heard Retro Rhymes are going to be there!"

"Really!? The rapper!?"

You sighed as they chatted amongst themselves. You silently picked at your muffin with your fork, that was the cheapest thing on the menu and the price was enough to give you eight of these back home.

Eventually, they must have forgotten your existence. Because they continued talking until they left the building. Not saying a bye or sparing a glance in your direction. Leaving you to sit at your table alone and brooding.

Well. You shouldn't expect much when it comes to friendships here. Many people come to the city solely to make money and have fun, after all. Not so much finding true, lifelong connections.

You took a sip of your black coffee. Again, the cheapest thing you could get from there. You couldn't even afford sugar or milk with it.

Suddenly, a manicured hand slammed a cup onto your table, shocking you and making you accidentally spill some of your drink onto your blouse.

"You should try this, it's so good. Way better than your boring-ass black coffee, I bet." You recovered from your initial shock to crane your head up to see Mercedes staring down at you from above, her soft, golden hair falling to your face.

You greeted her, asking what she was doing here.

"I could ask the same of you, seeing that you're pretty broke. But I saw how you still hung out with those sluts even after I told you not to." She cocked an eyebrow as an unimpressed look crossed her face.

Today, she wears a simple, lacey crop top and a pair of low waisted jeans. You got to know that she had her belly button pierced.

You sighed once more, burying your face in your hands. You told her you don't have a choice, it's a cold world out here and you need someone to fulfill that human need for socialization. Now that you have calmed down, you decided to take a better look at the drink she gave you.

It's a tall, plastic cup with a dome cover. It's an ice-blended, creamy mocha with chocolate syrup drizzled on the sides of the cup. It has a healthy dollop of whipped cream on top and a thick straw is sticking out of its opening.

"Um, hello? You have me." She moved away from you and took a seat next to you, she ordered the same thing. Mercedes shook it around before taking a sip. "You don't need them anymore, I'll be showing you the ropes."

You thought about it for a while. There is definitely a non zero chance that she will play you like a fiddle, but it's much better to have someone high up there in the hierarchy. Even though she isn't necessarily a mature businesswoman yet, you would still have a better chance to brush shoulders with relevant people. Not... Partygoers.

So then, you agreed. Picking up your cup and taking your first sip.

It was tooth-rotting. It was good, but you knew if it wasn't for sugar, this cup would not even be filled to half. The sheer sweetness of the treat made you grimace and pucker.

"What? Don't like it?" She asked, looking bored.

You said it was nice, but a bit too sweet.

"That's the point. I like it sweet." She took another sip from her drink. "Keeps me full for hours."

You... Don't think that's how it works. Isn't it usually the opposite effect? Whatever.

For the next few hours, you and her chat about almost everything and anything. Ranging from each other's histories, to each other's interests, to oddly philosophical questions and personal views on things. There were quite a few differences between you and Mercedes- obviously so, as she was raised by the uber rich and you were raised by... Your guardians, but you liked how she kept her mind open and was non-judgemental about you.

It was refreshing, really. Someone you could somewhat be real with, unlike your previous set of friends where you had to put on the most guarded mask in order not to feel like a pathetic lowlife around them.

You were curious about her dating habits, but you think it's rude to ask about it this early on in the friendship. Plus, it never came up, so you decided to save that question for another day. You bet if she's willing to open up, it will take more than just a few hours.

It's getting late, you should leave.

So you stood up, secretly in disbelief at how you finished the entire thing of diabetes. You told Mercedes that you have work tomorrow and you're going to need to leave soon.

She frowned. "Boo. Boring."

You said that you have to be "boring", you don't have her type of money.

"And it's literally just six in the evening. It's not like it's six in the morning or something." She huffed.

You said you have been in this cafe for seven hours.

"They don't close til 10."

Still, you have to get back home. You're tired.

She stuck her tongue out at you.

"Fine. But I'm driving you home."

You said there isn't a need for her to do that, you could take the bus.

"Let's go, you need your beauty sleep." She ignored you and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you along with her so quickly that you struggled to keep up.

Weeks would go by and you would meet Mercedes every Sunday in a different cafe of her choosing. And these meetings would increase in frequency each week, to a point where you were eating all three meals with her daily. She would always foot the bill and refused to let you pay for anything, talking about how you're so poor, that you're probably fighting rats for the scraps at the bottom of the dumpster. It's an absolute win for you; no cooking involved and you haven't eaten instant noodles for months now.

The five girls you originally started off with seem to lose interest in you, they never texted or called you again. And when you did bump into any of them, they would pretend not to know you.

It's extremely obvious that they're avoiding you for some reason, maybe it's because they've seen you buddying up with Mercedes: one of their sworn enemies and one of the most feared figures in this city.

It's... Surprisingly sad. Knowing that the friendship was doomed from the beginning didn't change the feeling of isolation and hurt in you. But at least you gained something that resembled a friend.

Mercedes would gradually increase the frequency of her texts and calls, hitting you up whenever she's bored out of her mind.

"Stop working letz go shopping"

"U r SO going blind in ur 30s"

"nerd :-P"

"im boreddddddddddddd"

"go clubbing with moiiii"

"letzzz goooo"

"stop ignoring me :-("

These were just some of the few text messages you would frequently receive, blowing up your phone even when you're in a meeting. You would usually need to turn it off entirely to keep yourself quiet.

But yes, you would go shopping with her. Mercedes seem to have a kick out of spoiling you with clothes, jewelry and other things you can only dream to buy.

You didn't like trying on clothes, because Mercedes would barge into your changing room however and whenever she liked.

"What's the big deal? We're both girls." That was what Mercedes would say when she slips into the cubicle, while you're mid-change without any warning. Of course, you would react negatively to that, especially since you don't know her that well.

In the end, though, you would just give up and let her come in. It's not like you could stop her and she isn't doing anything too weird... Aside from her vaguely longing stares at your partially or completely unclothed body. She would almost be in a trance, staring unblinkingly for long periods of time until you snap your fingers in front of her face. She just claims that you're just too hot for anyone to handle.

Mercedes would contact you via your phone, asking if you would want to go clubbing with her, or if you would want to be her plus one to an event. And each time, you would say no. And each time, she would whine about how lame you are but never pushed too far.

A temporary boyfriend would take your place, only for her to break up with them the next day and appear in another tabloid for some scandalous fighting or dating. When you asked her about it, she would get moody and irritable. She would rant about her feelings and problems with the world at large, finding the dating pool now repulsive and general standards insanely low.

"Ugh! Can you believe that he said that to me?"

You would have to nod, it would end her ranting faster. It's always the same phrase over and over again, with slight variation.

"I wish men were just like you, I would find it so fucking easy to commit to a guy. But they're not, so I rather shit my hands and clap. Oh my god, he was so pathetic and gross."

You could recite her words at this point, you got it the first time that she wishes she could date a male version of you. Mercedes didn't have to repeat that every single time you and her met up.

For her sake and yours, you pray hard that she finds what she's looking for. You don't know how much more of her repetitive complaints you can take.

All your other attempts to network and make connections fail. As soon as any of them knew you were Mercedes's "bestie", they would either run for the hills or become actively hostile toward you. She has made a lot of enemies and you don't think she has any girlfriends... Only orbiters or those who tried to get her approval but secretly hated her guts. Or die-hard fans who don't see her as a human, but as an object, whether for better or for worse.

She kept them around, just because she could benefit from them. Mercedes would bring them along to some of your many shopping sprees with her just so they could carry heaps of heavy bags for the two of you. While you and her get to enjoy the day, completely unburdened.

It unsettled you how she treated them like lowly servants, or even more degradingly so, like dogs. And not like one of her spoiled Pomeranians, but mutts that are bred to work and live off scraps of attention. You could be having a spa day at the city's finest specialist, sipping on complimentary champagne, and having your hair done with products that you cannot even pronounce; Mercedes would make her lackeys wait outside. Yet, they appear happy about this treatment from her. Eagerly following Mercedes and by extension, you, wherever you go.

It didn't matter who you tried to befriend, Mercedes's opinion of them would remain constant: They're all two-faced liars who are out there to kick you when you're down. It never changed despite never even meeting them or you made them up. She's fiercely protective of you, and always assumed the worst of everyone, even her own relatives when they tried being cordial with you.

Of course, the friendship has blossomed to the point where you would have a slumber party at her multi-million mansion every Friday. You wouldn't even need to bring anything, she would have everything ready for you; clothes, toiletries, hairdryers- anything you need to survive from day to day, you would have a more luxurious version of it. She definitely has an affinity for bling, as the tops that Mercedes provides always have rhinestones decorating them.

You were living in opulence, a lifestyle that can only be seen on TV, in magazines, or in history books. It's jarring and almost dreamlike how you got to experience such things just by chance. You didn't have to work hard for it, you just need to endure a spoiled blonde's clinginess to receive all these. What a steal. You had maids and butlers that would await your every order, personal chefs to whip up something delicious in a second, and hunky pool boys to ogle at when you tan with her outside.

You just wished that Mercedes wasn't so touchy, though...

"Like, sunburn isn't cute. C'mon, don't be such a hardass, turnover." You would groan and do as you were told, laying flat on your stomach and adjusting your sunglasses. Mercedes would then squeeze a handful of white sunscreen on her palm, and begin rubbing onto your exposed back and legs.

She would always take her time running her hands over your skin, sensually massaging from the base of your neck and down to your bum. Her flesh would glide against yours, reaching all that she could touch and occasionally squeezing your cheeks down south. Whenever you complained, she would say:

"What? Not my fault you have a bubble butt. No one can resist giving a squeeze." And continues fondling you under the guise of preserving your youthful skin from the harsh sun rays. You would sigh, slumping your head down as Mercedes continued doing whatever she wanted. It's her house, her money, and her influence after all. You're just riding on it for free. And it's not like anything is going to be too weird, you and her are both girls!

"Okay, I'm done. My turn." She would hand you the bottle of sunscreen and flip herself over. It's undeniable that she has a body that even Aphrodite would be envious of, thanks to a combination of genetics, her lifestyle, and other procedures. Mercedes does put in work in her personal gym, toning her body and alluring men everywhere. Her bikini would leave very little to the imagination, but it made sense why she needed much more sunscreen.

"Make sure to get it on here too." She would purr, playfully wiggling her plump rear. This would usually prompt an eye roll from you and a giggle from her.

She's soft to the touch. And you knew that not because you would have to smear sunscreen on her, but because she would often cuddle with you. It didn't matter what you were doing, you could be stretching in her living room, and she would wrap her arms around your waist. You could be curled up on her fluffy sofa, watching a sitcom, and she would crawl up all over your space. You could be sleeping, and you would wake up to her being the big spoon. And she would have the audacity to whine about how you ruined her sleep by moving around.

But you must admit, she is comfortable to cuddle with. Especially when you rest your head on her voluptuous breasts, allowing yourself to sink into them and inhale her sweet, floral perfume. It would be heaven squared when she would rake her long, acrylic nails through your hair. Mercedes would let you twirl with her golden strands, playing with them between your fingers.

You think, maybe it's because she's just lonely and a big fan of physical touch. It must be exhausting to constantly think every single person in the world is out there to get you. But does she have to be so... gross?

"I just want it." Mercedes would whine, demanding that she wants your drink. You would ask her why, you also drank out of this straw anyway.

"I didn't like my order."

You pointed out that you ordered the same exact thing as her.

"They didn't make it right!"

You asked her what made her think they made yours right.

"They just do!"

You said it's just going to be the same thing. Why not throw hers away and order another one, seeing that she has near infinite amount of money?

She would groan in frustration and stomp her heels on the ground. "It tastes better after you drank from it, okay!? I don't know what it is about your... fucking saliva that makes something so mediocre, tastes so good. Now, gimme!" Mercedes would snatch it out of your hands and swapped it with her one.

You drank more than half of yours while Mercedes barely touched her cup. Well, more for you, you guess. At least everyone is happy.

This habit of hers would extend to utensils, you knew she would purposely drop her dessert spoon just to eat from yours. Mercedes would steal your clothes, claiming that your outfits are always cuter than hers, and she's jealous.

But she chose and bought you these clothes...?

You were so used to her antics, that one day, Mercedes gave you a new brand of gum to try. However, when it touches your tongue, you immediately grimaced as it was the most atrocious flavour ever.

"Whaatt? Are you fucking serious? That's like, my favourite flavour!" She would look at you in disbelief. And you would look at her in disbelief, because this was the first time seeing her buying this brand.

You told her that you wanted to spit it out, it's awful.

"Don't waste it!" She hit you on the arm. "Spit it in my mouth." Mercedes would part her lips wide and bring her face close to yours.

Without thinking, you expelled the partially chewed up candy into her orifice... which she gladly accepted and began chewing on it. Sucking whatever flavour that was left on, including your fluids.

"What are you talking about?" You could hear her obnoxious chews between words. "It tastes fine, you're so dramatic."

Upon realizing what you just did, you would shudder in disgust. Quickly walking away as if you're trying to run from the memory.

Soon after, Mercedes would permeate through every aspect of your life. It seems like she had a chat with her parents about offering you a job at one of their firms. A high standing one at that, too.

You obviously accepted it and resigned from your previous post. Now, THIS is what you're talking about. A prestigious job with unbelievable benefits and tasks that doesn't seem too hard for you to do. It's everything you wanted you achieve, ever since you arrived at the city.

Well, minus the fact that your bestie who got you this position would intrude your office every chance she gets and talk your ear off.

"Ughhh... this is so boring... Let's ditch this place and go somewhere fun." She would rest her head on your shoulder while shaking you by the arm.

You said you can't. You have work to do.

"Says who?"

You said your boss.

"Who's your boss?"

For the fifth time, you told her the name of your supervisor. But instead of complaining, she would storm out of your office. At first, you thought she would leave you alone, maybe she's tired of bugging you and got the hint that you're a responsible adult with adult jobs.

But, ten minutes later, she would be barrelling in with your boss in tow. She had him in a very unsavoury grip, her hands tightly clutching his sleeve.

"Tell her!" She demanded.

"Y-you're free to go. Someone else can cover for you."

Your eyes would widen, asking if this will affect your pay.

"Not at all. Don't worry, I will have this... agreement in writing. Please e-enjoy the rest of your day." He would then quickly excuse himself from the room, avoiding Mercedes's fiery glare.

You looked at her. How could she just do that?

"My Dad owns this company, duh. Anyways, less talk, more walk." She hooked her arm around yours and dragged you out of the office.

It's as if her father was paying you just to babysit his bratty, adult daughter. You barely get to do anything for the company! You don't even know what you were hired to do in the first place anymore.

It gets extremely suffocating being her best friend, you don't know anyone around except her. The staff in her mansion is always rotating, so you wouldn't see the same face twice. You barely remembered your supervisor's names, let alone any colleagues'. All your free time is robbed by Mercedes, she saturates every single second of your life. You don't remember not seeing Mercedes's pretty face on the daily, yet it's astonishing how she would get the paparazzi on her for constantly dating a new roster of boys each season and getting into catfights with other women. Where does she find the time to do that?

It's rubbing on you, now you begin to crave a boyfriend. A 'boy toy', as Mercedes would call it.

It shouldn't be too hard, you know that you're good-looking; you have the clothes, the hair, the makeup and you can always steal from your filthy rich best friend. Your bank account is a little chubbier now thanks to Mercedes. If you just put yourself out there, you're sure boys will flock to you.

But you shouldn't tell this to Mercedes, you get the vibe that she would be jealous that you're stealing the spotlight. You aren't trying to do at all, you're just curious to know what it's like to live like Mercedes for once.

So you had to do it secretly. You would always decline her requests to join her clubbing, preferring to favor sleep over drug-fuelled parties. But recently, you would cover up your eyebags with concealer just so you could introduce yourself to the market. It goes without saying, that you're not tagging along with Mercedes, you went on your own and told not a single soul.

And it was a success! You have never received so many free drinks from men before, you even witnessed some of them fighting over you, all physical and mock-macho. It was hilarious and flattering, but the other girls would avoid you like the plague and shoot you nasty looks your way. It's much worse than you expected it to feel, you feel... rejected, alienated, and ugly. Was this how Mercedes felt? Is that why she thinks all other women are out for her blood? Well, you understand it now. And some of the boys would be really creepy towards you, it doesn't feel so good on the soul knowing the people who defended you from those weirdos are also creeps themselves. They just wanted a piece of you as if you were just a slab of meat in a cage of hungry wolves.

Though, it would be a big, fat lie to say you didn't feel free. You felt the freedom that died on the day Mercedes took you under her wing. It tasted so sweet, you wanted more and more. You were so addicted, that you took illicit substances just to keep you awake for longer, to party until the sun rises.

You were leading a double life: As Mercedes's goody-two-shoes bestie in the day, a bad girl gone wild at night. Make out with whoever you want to, drinking as much as you want and shaking yourself to the beat of the music until you drop.

You knew Mercedes was suspecting something was up, but at this point, you give no shits. This is your life, and you get to live it.

It didn't last long, though.

There was one night in particular; you remembered that they had a massive disco ball in the middle of the ceiling, reflecting every ray coming out of the projector. It was deafening, the smell of booze and sweat nauseated you but you didn't notice. The DJ was bopping his head to the rhythm and scratching records using his fingertips. The patrons were doing their own thing, some were dancing like no tomorrow, some were locking lips and some were snorting lines. It was one of those types of parties, the one where you first met Mercedes. Except this time, you successfully snuck in without your ex-friends and finally found the core of the rave.

Your hair was frazzled and you had a few wardrobe malfunctions, but why should you be bothered by that? It's not like everyone around you were dignified at all, you blend in and that's all that matters to you.

The details were fuzzy, but you remembered wondering what it was like to make out with a woman instead. Men had pretty rough lips and they smelled like crap. Why not experiment? You're here anyways, and no one is going to recognize you- whatever happens in this mansion, stays in this mansion. Plus, you already have a willing participant next to you, who has been hitting on you all night.

Later in the dark, you became bold from a mix of alcohol and whatever glowing pill you took from a giddy stranger. You pulled her aside to somewhere secluded, the two of you were clearly hot and bothered, deeply eager to explore each other's bodies. Nothing else matters in this moment, other than to satisfy each other's needs.

She pulled you in by the neck, pressing her full lips against yours. And you were correct, it was soft, fragrant, and delicious. A thousand times better than kissing stinky boys. You closed your eyes and melted into her touch, sinking deeper and deeper into the kiss. She's on top of you, straddling your hips and your hands are rubbing all over her body. The woman, who you didn't even know the name of, trailed kisses from your jaw down to your collarbones. Her slender fingers began to stray from your chin and roam downwards until it was dangerously close to the hem of your panties. You let out a muffled moan as she let her tongue taste every corner of your mouth, neither of you could speak. And neither of you wanted to, words weren't necessary.

However, your ecstasy was cut short when your lover was yanked backward. Confused, your eyes immediately shot open at the first taste of emptiness... only to witness something scaringly horrific.

"Fucking slut! How fucking dare you, how fucking dare you touch my girl!" Shrieked Mercedes as she had an iron grip on your lover's hair with one hand, and another was whaling on her non-stop. She was screaming in terror as your best friend inflicted as much damage as she could on her face. Scratches, punches, cuts, she had done it all. Mercedes pulled clumps of hair out from her victim's scalp and dodged every attempt of her to fight back. She was fast, fueled with the purest distillation of rage you have ever seen, mascara streaked down her face as she shouted until her voice was hoarse. Blood splattered onto her light-hued hair, her outfit was ruined and no doubt, a thousand dollars worth of acrylic nails were ripped from her nailbed as she threw brutal punches.

You panicked, trying to break the fight up but Mercedes was entirely immersed in anger that she didn't care that she lost her natural nails along with her false ones. She's also bleeding, scarlet painted her fingertips, knuckles, and up to her wrist as she went on tormenting your lover with more hits and pummels. At this rate, Mercedes might just kill her!

You attempted to restrain her, but she was too strong, easily overpowering you just so she could beat your lover to death. There was so much hatred simmering in her heart for this one stranger, this one woman you're sure she's never met. Why!? Why her!? Why would Mercedes attack her unprovoked!?

The fight, which was one-sided ended a few minutes later when your lover stopped moving and was covered in gruesome welts. Her eyes were swollen shut and there was blood pooling around her from her nostrils, scalp, and lips.

"You."

Growled Mercedes. She was breathing heavily and all her strands were out of place. Tears were flowing down her bloodshot eyes as she trembled.

You were speechless, you quivered in fear as you looked on. In the end, all you could mewl out was a meek "Why?"

This caused her to wail, scream, and sob. She brought her injured fingers to her head and gripped her hair, letting out all her frustrations and agony before composing herself enough to form a coherent sentence.

"Fuck you, Whore! Fuck you!" She pointed at you, her shrill voice was making your ears hurt, but you're glad she wasn't biting them off instead.

You said you didn't understand what was going on, why was she so upset.

"You were into girls all along! I-I-" She sniffled, ungracefully wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. Soiling her face with her own blood.

"I'm... in love with you..." Her voice quietened as it wavers, Mercedes choked on her own tears as she confessed. "Why didn't you tell me...?" She gasped erratically as she cried. Suddenly, there was a spike in her emotions. "Why didn't you fucking tell me?!"

You took a few more steps backward as she lost control over herself again, she had to kick your already unconscious lover with her heels to calm herself down.

"I wanted you! I..." She let out one last bloodcurdling scream before lunging at you.

You tried evading her, but she was just too experienced in this. Within seconds, her hands are tightly wrapped around your neck; Choking them until blood rushes up your head. You clawed and clawed on her hands, but nothing worked. She was determined to kill you.

She gnashed her teeth as she choked the life out of you, her salty tears rolled down her cheeks, taking some concealer along with it showing that she also had severe dark bags under her eyes.

You started seeing spots, and your thinking became redundant as your brain shuts down from the lack of oxygen. Is this it? Your death? Killed by a nepotism baby with her bare hands?

You took one last look at her face, it was filled with pain and anguish.

You regretted agreeing to come to the city.

She was yearning for you, ever since she bought you that first drink. If you knew the depth of her twisted, obsessive love she harbors for you, running for the hills would have been your immediate reaction.

Mercedes cried herself to sleep almost every night, suffering from a heartache that could never heal itself as long as she knew you were straight. She knew that you would never share her feelings, because she was taught that everyone sees lesbians as freaks of nature.

She tried distracting herself with parties, boys, booze, and coke. But nothing worked, all she ever thought about was you, you, you. She loves you and wanted nothing but to be your lovely wedded wife. Oh, how she longs for a life where it's just you and her. And no one else.

Mercedes couldn't let you go, no way in hell. That's why she would scare off anyone who got too close to you for her liking, that's why she sent out hit after hit to eliminate the competition. Because if she can't have you, no one can.

But now...

"Sit."

You frowned, refusing to budge from your spot.

Mercedes pouted, she cupped your cheeks and stared deep into your eyes.

"Bad puppies don't get treats, you don't want to be a bad puppy, do you, baby?" She cooed in a babyish tone but with heavy condescension.

You couldn't speak, because there was a ballgag between your lips. Yet, you stayed still in defiance.

She narrowed her eyes at your disobedience.

"That's how you're gonna be, huh." Mercedes lets go of your face and sticks her hand into the pocket of her bathrobe. You heard a click, and soon you felt insane vibrations between your legs, it's coming from the vibe taped to your clit!

You let out a muffled yelp as the stimulation made you buckle to your knees, and eventually, you were on the floor, helpless as your hands were tied up behind your back. Juices leaked from your slit and onto the cold, smooth floors.

"Good girl~" She praised in a sing-song voice. Mercedes happily clapped her hands together.

Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you were about to be overcome by pleasure, but... the device suddenly stopped moving. Leaving you incomplete and agitated.

You whined and whimpered, wanting your rightful climax but Mercedes only smiled at your pathetic, squirming state.

"Aww, what's that? Puppy wants to cum?" You feverishly nodded, face burning from the degradation.

"Well, only good puppies get their pussy eaten. Are you a good puppy?" She rested her hands on her knees.

You nodded and let out a muffled yell.

"Roll over."

You tried your best to do that, but the frigid floor is stimulating you further.

"Play dead."

You lay still for a few seconds, your sex is still throbbing in arousal.

"Good girl, good girl!" She praised, giggling at you.

You whimpered, having tears bead from the corners of your eyes. You need that release so badly, it's starting to hurt.

"Mmm... you're so fucking hot..." She whispered as she slowly got down to the floor, slipping her hands between your inner thighs to remove the toy. Her pupils are dilating at the sight of your naked, dripping crotch. "I can't wait to eat you out. You always taste so fucking delicious." Mercedes brushed your puffy lips with her fingers.

"Open your legs."

She didn't have to tell you twice, you granted her full access.

"Good girl..." She purred before dipping her head down to drag her wet, pink muscle over your pussy.

You writhe as she tongue fucks you, lapping up everything and not letting a drop of your sweet, sweet nectar go to waste.

You would spend almost every waking second being 'trained' by Mercedes. Her treats are sex and the overstimulation of your pussy until you faint. You never knew that she was such a nymphomaniac, or maybe she just is that for you. Mercedes just couldn't get enough of your essence, so you're subjected to such treatment.

Well, at least you don't have to work anymore. You get to eat five-star meals and sleep in a mansion, and you get to binge-watch all your favorite shows guilt-free. All you had to be was Mercedes's pet and have her eat you out whenever she wants.

Her beloved Pillow Princess; was embossed in gold, on the hot pink collar around your neck.

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vidavalor · 2 days

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Odegra and The Language of The Dark Priesthood of Ancient Mu

Let's decode Disco Tony's hilarious work presentation. On the known history of The Dark Priesthood of Ancient Mu under the cut.

Right, so, a few of you have requested word nerdery on the Odegra scene so here we go... For a refresher, here's the dialogue with the wordplay-significant bits that we'll look at bolded:

Crowley: So, thanks to three computer hacks, selected bribery, and me moving some markers across a field one night, the M25 London Orbital Motorway, which was supposed to look like this, will, when it opens in 1986, actually look like this [shows a terrible picture of, more or less, the same thing lol] and represent the dread sigil 'Odegra' in the language of The Dark Priesthood of Ancient Mu. 'Odegra' means 'Hail the Great Beast, Devourer of Worlds.' Can I hear a wahoo?

[Some of the demons have enough energy to half-boo; most just continue to sit there looking miserable. Of all of them, only Beez looks like they might be getting how bullshit this all is and, either way, they still have no idea what Crowley is actually saying and really couldn't care less.]

Crowley: Once it's built, the millions of motorists who grumble their way around it are going to be like water on a prayer wheel grinding out an endless fog of low-grade evil that will encircle the whole of London. [Hastur raises his hand with a question.] Yes, Duke Hastur?

Hastur: What's a computer?

---

A lot of the humor of the scene comes from the fact that, unlike the demons, we know that a word as short as 'Odegra' cannot possibly mean something as long as 'Hail The Great Beast, Devourer of Worlds'... and 'Odegra' isn't a word familiar to many of us in the first place, adding to the feeling that Crowley is b.s.-ing the demons. The scene ending with Hastur asking for a definition of 'computer'-- basically, the first word Crowley said in what we see of the presentation lol-- exists as the punchline to the presentation and the scene as a whole, showing us that Crowley is correct in believing that there is no one in the room who can really tell that he's playing them.

Still, we know that language is a big thing on Good Omens (and that's an understatement) and Crowley is saying something... so, can we use the rules of Ineffable Husbands Speak that we've been looking at to figure out what, exactly, Crowley might be saying? Seems we can and, as you'll see, when we do, it becomes apparent very quickly that this presentation to Hell about the highway that Crowley describes as a demonically evil masterpiece exhibiting reverence to Satan and all things satanic is actually about Aziraphale and their world together and Crowley is getting a kick out of watching that fly over the heads of his audience. Crowley definitely performed this presentation for Aziraphale at some point, though (maybe rehearsed it a la Aziraphale's magic show?). Aziraphale enjoyed it a great deal more than the demons of Hell did, since it was written to amuse him.

Odegra: Odegra, a word that doesn't exactly exist in this form... but that Crowley didn't entirely make up either. Professional midwife that he is, Crowley used rules of human language to birth it into existence from a pre-existing word. If odegra did exist (and, honestly, Crowley using it and it being in Good Omens means it now does exist in both his and our worlds), it would be derived from the only word like it that does exist-- the Polish odegrac. What's hilarious is that odegrac means... to get one over on someone (not kidding lol)... as well as: to put on a performance and to play act a role.

So, the word Crowley is claiming means something in an ancient human language that doesn't exist is actually a word he made up that is of a word that does exist... and that word means to fool someone, to put on a performance, and to act a part. That is both how Crowley performs "demonicness"-- with the Odegra scene itself a perfect example-- and also how Crowley and Aziraphale behave performatively together in public to fool Heaven and Hell and hide their relationship.

Additionally, performance and act are words that can be, on another level, sexually euphemistic, and Crowley and Aziraphale both use act in that way in the Chateauneuf-de-Pape scene of The Blitz, Part 2. It somehow gets even better, though, because hiding their relationship is not the only reason why they have a secret language. Another way Odegra can also be defined gets into that and that's when we take into account how their wordplay is big on the words contained within words-- something used not just in their language but in the show itself, beginning with, as we've looked at in other metas, its opening shot of the word 'war' within the word 'warning'.

Odegra contains ode and gra. An ode is a lyrical poem and a poem is wordplay. Odes are specifically written in tribute to someone or something. That is what they're doing when they use their secret birdsong and why they use it when alone in addition to in public; its born both out of the need to be able to speak to one another in a coded way when they might be overheard and out of flirtation and combines the two. One of the most famous odes in existence is Keats' "Ode to a Nightingale," which is also a word that we have seen that they use as shorthand for their language and for how they feel about each other.

As for the gra part of Odegra? It's a Polish word for game (as in, to play a game... like, say, a wordplay game.) But, also...

...gra is an Irish word for love.

Odegra, in Ineffable Husbands Speak, actually means secret love language.

Some demons torture and murder-- Crowley hijacks plans for Freeways of Love out of transportation-related innuendo amusement, remakes them into a soppy apple-heart-looking thing for his boyfriend, and passes them off as an evil work assignment, ok? 😂

The M25 in image forms "the dread (a subtle suggestion for the demons in there *snicker*) sigil Odegra in the language of The Dark Priesthood of Ancient Mu" aka Nightingale Speak/Odegra/Whatever They Actually Call It, if they call it anything at all... what we've been calling Ineffable Husbands Speak. For why Crowley is jokingly referring to their secret language in this way, let's start with Mu...

If, in the GO universe, dinosaurs basically don't exist and The Earth is only a little over 6,000 years old, it's doubtful that there's anything to the Lost Continent of Atlantis, sometimes referred to as Mu or Lemuria. Crowley would know, since he's been on Earth since The Beginning and, since he's trolling the demons with this presentation, he's likely pretending that Mu existed, knowing that the demons won't know the difference.

When referring to The Lost Continent idea, Mu comes from Lemuria, which is what the theorized continent was named because it derived as a way of trying to explain fossils of lemurs that were found in spots people didn't think fit with what they knew of history at the time. All of this was discredited scientifically prior to when Crowley is making the presentation but Lemuria is popular with occultists. It sounded satanic to reference it in the presentation, which is probably how Crowley arrived at using it-- but it seems he really did for the demonicness on the surface but for its other meaning on a hidden language level. Mu/Lemuria/Atlantis is not the only definition of Mu and it's really the other one that Crowley is referencing. The Ancient Mu to whom Crowley is really referring is him and Aziraphale-- extremely old beings with a fondness for the other Mu-- the Greek letter that became what we now call today the letter M.

Mu evolved from the ancient Egyptian hieroglyph meaning water and, then, the Phoenician word for water. Anything related to water/the sea/fish, etc.., as we've looked at before, is a sexual metaphor and related to orgasm in Ineffable Husbands Speak, rooted in Aziraphale using oysters euphemistically to ask Crowley to bed for the first time in ancient Rome. The ancient Greeks eventually turned Mu into the letter M, which Crowley and Aziraphale use often and with a lot of intentionality as a word that has existed in basically all languages since the beginning of time: mmm, the sound of human pleasure and satiation, as we looked at in the Crowley & Plosives meta. The Ancient Mu = Crowley and Aziraphale, who are really old, longtime sailors together on The Sea of Mmm.🐟

[An aside but M is also the name of James Bond's boss. Crowley is a big Bond fan and, we speculate, was likely an allied spy during WW2 so maybe there's something in here as well to add to the idea that Crowley influenced Bond a bit.]

Mu has had different pronunciations but the most common one is homophonic for moo, which is the sound of the milk-producing cow. I don't think further detail is really needed on that one...

Mu can also be pronounced at times like the French moue, which comes from an early meaning of lips and evolved into meaning someone pouting. Crowley busts out a moue a lot-- sometimes genuinely, sometimes in jest.

Finally, mu is the Greek root of the word for something Crowley and Aziraphale both enjoy (and both like to speak about euphemistically at times): music.

The Dark Priesthood bit is pure blasphemy. Crowley and Aziraphale are, technically, members of opposing religious orders. Aziraphale is an angel of God, which is more or less akin to a human priest, while Crowley is, technically, a dark priest/diabolical minister. Religious trauma and conflicts for days aside, they're both more pagans of the good times, as Irish God Hozier would call it, with a yen for equating the sexual with the spiritual in their wordplay.

In S2, we have a parallel to the Odegra scene and others like it with entries shown to us in a publication of Hell--'Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings Who Walk the Earth'-- in which Crowley and Aziraphale wrote each other spicy love letters in their language and published them under the noses of Heaven & Hell without anyone ever catching on. In those entries, they both refer to each other using different religious terms (guru, different ancient gods, a particularly 'hot priest' turn through the etymology of bishop...). There's also, of course, that priests in many religions take a vow of celibacy, which then makes it more amusing to refer to themselves as a priesthood in wordplay referring to themselves as lovers.

Etymologically, the word priest comes from the Greek presbyteros, which means elder/old/venerable so, like their use of ancient, it's also something of a play on how they are quite literally older than dirt and also that they've been a thing for awhile now.

In addition to signifying a group, a hood is also both clothing that shields one from the rain and what we call the canopy covering of a car.

Crowley is making it sound in his presentation to the demons that Odegra means something evil and demonic in an ancient language of satanic priests when, really, it's a word he made up for his and Aziraphale's spicy and romantic little language and they're not devil-worshippers but devout members of The Church of The Vavoom.

The Dark Priesthood... Dark is a fun word by their rules because it's a word they could probably say a lot in public since it sounds all demonic but we have seen that their language is built, in part, around words within other words and also uses a lot of French so Dark = Dark and D'Ark. It actually refers to The Ark or is Of The Ark, which we can take as a reference to the events of The Flood. Since The Flood is referenced in S2 in the Job minisode and keeps coming up in other places (and since we've seen precious little of it so far), it's potentially another hint that all that rain-sheltering canopy vavooming Crowley was going on about in S2 was he and Aziraphale during The Flood and that we might see that in S3.

It sounds like if one of them says dark, they're actually referencing-- at least, in part-- The Vavoom kiss. Like Crowley was, on one level of what he said, in 1941:

In the book, the Odegra stuff is the same but for the word dark-- it's The Black Priesthood of Ancient Mu instead. The word black is also in their wordplay in the show, though, and shows up in the same scene in 1941 as Crowley saying "shades of... dark grey." The word black contains the word lac, the substance secreted by an insect that is used as shellac. Lac is also the French word for lake. One of you asked me to word out The Blitz, Part 2's Chateauneuf-de-Pape scene so we can talk more about how Crowley uses black in that scene in that meta down the line. We're actually not yet done with Odegra, though, because...

Odegra also can be pronounced like "Eau de grah." Eau is French for water-- so, it would be "water of grah"/"grah water" when mixing French in. Grah is a fascinatingly Good Omens-y word... In German, it's a variant word for gray. In Slovenian? It means pea. (Frozen peas!) In Croatian? Beans and bean soup. Peas and beans are both seeds, which occur a lot in their speak and are going to be their own meta at some point, since quite a few of you want me to write about the 'Seeds of Destruction' scene in S1. In Hindi and Nepali, it means planet-- akin to world...

The especially damn one, though, is that, in Albanian, grah means *both* to rattle and to roar. Serpents rattle. Lions roar. Crowley is both. Rather hilariously, he even roared as a lion once while shapeshifted into a snake which.... isn't quite to what this wordplay would be referring lol... but it adds additional humor to that scene.

So you say, Crowley... Anyway, lastly, in Sanskrit, grah also means: to seize, to take, and to hold. Mmm...

Hail The Great Beast, Devourer of Worlds:

Hail: Besides hailing someone in the worshipful way Crowley suggests here, there's hail-- hard rain. Within hail: hai, a kind of keelboat and also the word for shark in several languages (Finnish and Estonian, among them) and ail, homophone: ale aka alcohol. You also used to (pre-Uber/Lyft, etc.)-- and can often still-- hail transportation, like a cab... an extra funny pun since it's used during Crowley's M25 presentation.

Great: The original meanings (some of which obviously still exist now) were big, massive, thick, and coarse. Rooted in ghreu, which meant to rub and to grind.

Great: Contains gre and eat. Gre, in Welsh, means all of these: a stud of horses, a flock and a herd. So, there's the horses, ducks, birds and other animals that show up in their speak and the show itself. In the Old French, gre meant pleasure and goodwill and, in Middle English, it meant kindness, understanding and satisfaction. It's also connected to the word gray in Old Scottish Gaelic. The eat bit is self-evident-- a nod to all the food used euphemistically in their speak (and the real food they do enjoy together as well.)

Crowley also uses great in summary of he and Aziraphale in S2 when he dryly tells Maggie how much he and Aziraphale talk-- but uses their language, which she obviously doesn't understand, to do so because, honestly, Maggie telling Crowley that he doesn't know how communicate in a relationship is about the same thing as it would be if Muriel sat him down and said he needed to listen to them when it comes to their superior knowledge of sexual innuendo. It's ridiculous. ("I say something brilliant and he says something unintentionally funny back. It's great." Rill = a stream; tent = canopy, etc..)

The Great Beast... Beast: Contains be, homophone: bee, and east. Bees, as we learned in S2, are angels. Aziraphale is Crowley's angel and The Angel of the Eastern Gate, whose desk is in the Eastern part of the compass bookshop, which is also the direction of the arrow being pointed by the bookshop's Cupid sculpture in S1. The Great Beast = Aziraphale.

"The beast with two backs" has also been euphemistic for sex since the 1500s and was immortalized by Shakespeare in Othello... and, by that, we mean was probably immortalized by Crowley in Othello lol... A beast has also long been a flirty thing to call someone who uses lewd and lascivious language.

GIF by aftermath-meme

Devourer of Worlds:

Devourer: We know what this is lol but just to fine print it here... Devour comes from the Latin devolare, meaning both to swallow down and to accept eagerly. Earliest forms contain the same meanings we have today for the word: to entirely consume; to eat ravenously.

By the early 1600s, devour evolved to also mean to take in hungrily with the eyes. I suppose here is where it might be funny to also point out that both ravenous and swallow are words that are also related to birds.

World: Often relates to the state of existence of human beings. Sometimes used in religious settings by humans to differentiate between the secular world and Earth versus Heaven and the world of the afterlife-- the "worldly affairs" of Earth. Can sometimes refer to the celestial-- "other worlds." The universe is another name for the world-- a system of created things, one started by Crowley and Aziraphale themselves. Also: homophonic for whirled: a swirling of something-- usually, of a mind or of water, like a whirlpool.

A world, though, can just be a person's own life and the people in it, and a romantic way of referring to your partner. You could, for instance, toast the world of the planet you just helped save and also be toasting one another-- your own, mutual, private world-- at the same time, as many of us suspect was the case here:

Crowley also says that the motorists, as they "grumble" along the highway will be "like water on a prayer wheel, grinding out an endless fog of low-grade evil that will encircle the whole of London." There is a bit of wordplay in here as well.

Grumble: Means to complain in a low voice but also originally had the additional meaning of the word within it that evolved into a separate word-- to rumble, as in to make a low, rumbling sound or murmur. While these hypothetical motorists are rumbling their way around The Freeway of Love, they're doing so like water on a prayer wheel.

Crowley knows that not a soul in the room knows what a Tibetan prayer wheel is or what it is meant to do. It just sounds like stuff the demons would think is an appropriately evil way to feel. The other part of the joke is that the term prayer wheel is actually misleading and a mistranslation of the Tibetan. Mantras, not prayers, are put on paper inside the wheel (which is cylindrical, not really even round-wheel-shaped, though it does go around) while a mantra or two is usually printed on the outside of the wheel. It's more about visualization than prayer-- which goes with how this flashback scene is tied to Crowley literally visualizing and willing himself and the burning Bentley through the M25 ring of fire.

It's the height of irony because the idea is that anytime someone turns a prayer wheel and focuses on the positive energy they are generating from doing so and thinking on or saying the mantras it contains, they're actually sending out positive energy to everyone around them. Crowley is giving a presentation in which he's claiming that these motorists on the M25 would be spreading negative energy because they'd be stuck in an exercise as pointless as spinning a prayer wheel when, in actuality, he's thinking about how the grumps in Hell could use some prayer wheels being spun in their direction.

On an euphemistic level, though, Crowley, is in his happy place being metaphorical water on a metaphorical prayer wheel. More sexuality-as-spirituality blasphemy at play with that and also a nod to how a lot of how he and Aziraphale are living is closer in line with Buddhist teachings than with other religions. S2 highlights that a bit, showing both Crowley and Aziraphale employing mudras (both inside and outside of performing miracles) and the lotus flower mandala rug they have on the floor to cover up The Heavenly Zoom of Discorporation, etc...

These motorists will be grinding out (does not need further explanation lol, other than to point out that you also grind seeds/pulses and coffee)...

...an endless fog (fog in a sense of headspace with relation to sex; etymology ties to damp, in a possible nod to the 597 AD scene; endless potentially hinting loosely at edging, which is in another 32 scenes more directly so not really a reach; also: endless, in the sense of viewing how they are and feel as eternal...)

...of low-grade evil (original definition of evil pertained to "sin" and still does-- "low-grade evil" would be akin to mild "sin"; grade repeats gra and also contains ade: as in, a drink made of fruit, like lemonade. Homophones: aid and aide-- so, care and support)...

....that will encircle the whole (both whole, as in: all of, and hole, as in: yeah, I'm pretty sure ya got this one...)...

...of London. London is wordplay, you ask? Oh, yes, seems to be. It's also in 'Demon's Guide...' as well, likely because...

London: contains lon and don. A don, among other things, is the formal Spanish title for a gentleman. Lon is an Irish word for blackbird and a Norwegian one for a gently-flowing creek. (Yes, they are that specific in the definition on the water movement.) The word London as a whole comes from the Proto-Celtic Londinjon, meaning: place that floods and, for a little ocean-themed destructive sexual metaphor fun, the Proto-Indo-European lendh, meaning: to sink.

So that endless fog of low-grade evil will be encircling the whole of London forevermore, thanks to Crowley's demonic design of the M25 orbital motorway. After all of that, it's clear to see why Crowley dryly thought that a wahoo (a positive yay! response but, also, a kind of fish... so, an orgasm) was in order. Some jolly good wordplay, that. Instead, at the end of Crowley's presentation, Hastur asks a question:

"What's a computer?"

In fairness to Hastur, while computers had existed for awhile by the 1970s, they weren't in everyone's houses yet and he didn't get up to Earth that often. (Good on him, actually, for even asking a question in the first place, when most of them didn't.) While the joke exists to highlight the fact that none of the demons got a single lick of what Crowley just said because Hastur's back with a question on what was only about the fourth word of many that Crowley said, there's also that it highlights that Hastur and the other demons lack the language ability to work out, through language comprehension and/or context, what a computer might be. They can't compute what a computer could be, basically.

Crowley and Aziraphale have been on Earth since the start and have been a part of the evolution of language. They understand how it's a living thing. They know the relationships between root words, which many of us also do just instinctively from living, speaking and reading and they do on a level of being walking, talking etymological dictionaries. The angels and demons technically speak all the languages of the world but, because they don't live in that world, they don't really understand language... and they are definitely miles away from Crowley and Aziraphale's capability of playing with it to the point of having created their own language out of the languages of the world.

Hastur's question is the meta joke of the scene and so we're going to finish up here by looking at it, too, even though it's not part of Crowley's wordplay. Ironically for Hastur, the word computer comes from the Latin putare which means, quite literally, to think, as well as to prune, in a way that means to filter and discern information. The 'com' part of it related to the Latin cum, meaning with and together.

What's funny about the question from a Crowley and Aziraphale's language speak perspective is that the reason why Aziraphale must have lost it laughing when Crowley told him what question Hastur asked is because their approach to the word would be to compute it by taking it apart and remaking it into also having a different layer of meaning within their language.

The first bit of com and its connection to cum and to come is something they already use all over the place, for obvious reasons. As for the rest of it... puter, depending on accent, can pronounced as puta, which is derogatory Spanish slang for a woman who has many sexual encounters and/or is a sex worker.

To compute to Crowley and Aziraphale would mean to think and discern, sure, but in Ineffable Husbands Speak, could be used to mean spending some quality time with a fellow seamstress.

So Hastur, who didn't understand much of anything in Crowley's presentation, asked for the everyday English definition of the one word in it that Crowley wasn't using in his sea of wordplay... but which, when used in Ineffable Husbands Speak, would ironically be defined as a short version of exactly what Crowley was on about for the entire presentation.

And this is probably why if you asked Aziraphale in Crowley's presence if he was ever going to get a new computer, he'd likely tell you he prefers to stick with his classic, first gen apple. It's the only one that's ever truly been great.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens meta #good omens theory #ineffable husbands speak #etymology #hastur good omens #crowley x aziraphale #mrs sandwich

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dilfpassing · 12 hours

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What's Become of You

My fic is finally done!

Starting this off with a HUGE, HUGE thank you to @foxflowering for beta reading this and giving me the best feedback ever, I said, thankfully. This piece is going to be a monster. It's really long. I found myself very frustrated with both Wyll's storytelling falling apart very quickly in the game AND Astarion's romance line requiring you to sleep with him in Act 1. So, I thought to myself, what would this story look like if Wyll got the attention he deserved, and Astarion had to fumble his way through this story with a FRIEND that turned into a lover, somewhere down the line? And lo, after a few months of work, this was born! This story is ultimately about Wyll. And Astarion is there too, I guess.

Fic summary:

Wyll Ravengard lost himself in the Blade of Frontiers on a daily basis — there was no time for regret, no time to wonder how things might have been different when he was committing himself to the safety of others. There was no time to mourn his selfhood when he was busy being a hero. Wyll was thankful for this distraction, welcome to it. Wyll Ravengard was not a religious man, preferring the affairs of the mortal over the divine, but in the silent stillness of the lonely night, Wyll supposed his self-sacrifice was another form of devotion.

Chapter 1 summary:

The agony of the Hells was fresh in Wyll’s mind. His memory seared with the pain and torment of flames against his skin, the weight of horns curling out from his temples and searing exhaustion into the muscles of his neck, grinding pressure into the bones of his spine, driving migraines into his skull. Whenever he tried to close his eyes to the harsh changes the last few days of his life had thrust upon him, flames, parasites, Avernus, Mizora painted the insides of his eyelids. Becoming a devil was not a pleasant experience, by any means.

#my art #my writing #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #wyll ravengard #astarion ancunin #wyllstarion #bloodblade #bloodpact #ao3 #fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #slow burn

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intoxicated-chan · 2 days

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟖 ║ ❝𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐲 𝐂𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐡❞

(A/n) ➳ I’m back at writing! I thank those who gave me advice that helped me with my writer’s block. Hopefully I can keep a schedule and I thank those who waited! Thank you all!

Word Count ➳ 1.3k

Content Warnings ➳ Alcohol use, drug trafficking, mentions of baby trapping, swearing, mentions of toxic friend group dynamic, threats of violence...

JUDAS Masterlist

DARYL WAS PULLED IN A HUG WHILE ANOTHER MAN PATTED HIS BACK.

Andrea brought the glass of cheap liquor to her lips as she eyed Daryl conversing with the group of men. She wouldn’t say he was friendly with them but seemed to be coworkers of some kind.

“Are you seein’ this?” Andrea asked Amy who quickly agreed with her.

Amy pulled her phone up to take a photo. “(Y/n)’s gotta see this-”

Andrea snatched the phone out of her hands. “Jus’ cause he’s talkin’ to some guys doesn’t make it suspicious. You need hard evidence.”

“Like what?”

“Watch.”

Andrea kept her distance as she maneuvered past people, nearly getting a drink spilled on her when she was pushed by a dancing couple. She blended into the background as she came closer to Daryl and his friends.

She observed his interactions with the other patrons, noticing how he kept glancing around, as if he was expecting someone. He then leaned into a man, like a hug and passed something into his pocket and shook his hand.

She could only see them whispering to each other until Daryl turned around at hand gasping his shoulder.

It was Merle, he leaned in. “How much do you get this month?” He asked, taking the wad of cash from Daryl’s pocket.

“Less, cops been ‘round.” Daryl again looked around. “And one might be pokin’ their nose where it don’ belong.”

“I told you not to get involved with that woman.” Merle commented, counting the cash. “Look at you now.”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Merle chuckled, putting the cash into his back pocket. “She ain’t gonna stay for you, tie ‘er down or somethin’. From the way you talk ‘bout her, she’d make a good mom.”

“Ya can’t-”

“Leah called again, need you for the next run.”

“Did ya not hear me?”

“The hell the cops gonna do? They got nothin’.” Merle laughed, ignoring Daryl. “The guy needs his money, some shit ‘bout his wife.” Rolling his eyes, he was annoyed, getting pushed to do more and more work while their boss gets most of their earnings.

“He needs ‘em now?”

Merle shrugged, coming to the bar and ordering a drink for them both. “Friday.” Two days from now. “You goin’ be meetin’ with her-”

Daryl waved him off, remembering the place. It wasn’t like he was the one bringing the shipment to her every time Merle was ordered to do it himself. Daryl walked to the bar, easily drowning the shot given to him.

He just needed to stick it out for a few more runs then he could be free. Free from his brother, free from this mess, he can finally go back to you without everything haunting his mind.

“Another.” He demanded. He wasn’t going to be able to make home sober tonight. He huffed, taking out his phone. He pressed on your contact, bring the phone to his ear as he took his shot. It rang a few times before you answered.

“Daryl? What is that sound?”

“At some bar.” He responded.

“Are you alright? You sound drunk- please don’t tell me you’re drunk.”

“I’ll be drunk soon, darlin’.”

He heard you sigh over the phone. “Send me your address, I’ll pick you up.”

“Yer too kind.” He chuckled.

“Jus’... Jus’ don’t drink too much.”

“Yeah.”

He threw his head back as he took the shot, groaning as the burning sensation went down his throat, clouding his mind as the more shots he took, the more the alcohol influenced him.

What Daryl remembered was slumped over the bar and then pushed into a car that smelled fresh. Your voice filled his mind as you spoke to him to keep him awake. God, the way you took care of him made him relax.

You sat in your recliner, legs crossed as you held a mug of coffee. You watched Daryl’s chest rise and fall, keeping close as it was becoming noon.

He had passed out the second he hit your couch, and you were too worried about him to sleep so you stayed awake.

Your phone had buzzed for the hundredth time for this day. It was a string of text messages coming from Shane, begging you to think twice about Daryl.

You were disappointed in Shane. You knew he was rash, but you didn’t think he’d react this way when he was rejected.

You have no idea what the hell you’re doing

You could hear him say it, repeatedly. It played like a song that you wanted out of your head. It was annoying, frustrating, and somewhat depressing.

“Ya should really block him.” Daryl’s hoarse voice made you snap your head up and see him awake. He rubbed his eyes as he grumbled. “That coffee?”

“Yeah.”

“Hand it over.” He weakly demanded, it made you laugh and hand it over with ease.

“Glad to see you alive.” You got up, stretching your legs. “I was thinkin’ I might have to take you to the hospital with the number of shots you took.”

“That’s what work does to ya.” He responded, taking a large gulp of the coffee as he slowly sat up. “Still haven’t answered ma question.”

“Don’t worry about me, Dixon. I'll make some food for you.”

“No, sit down.”

“Daryl you’re hungover-”

“Sit.” He pushed your throw pillow on the ground, having you sit next to him. “Ya don’ block ‘im ‘cause yer worried, ain’t ya?”

“...I never seen him act like this before. Yes, I’m worried ‘bout him. He's texting me every minute!” You explained, feeling your chest tighten as your voice wavered. “Then Lori! And Rick! Who’s next? Carl?!”

“It’s ‘cause of me.”

“Please Daryl, it’s not you. It ain’t your fault.” You immediately reacted, grabbing his shoulders. “I jus’ realized that my place in that group wasn’t as a friend but a prop. They knew I didn’t have much around me and used it to their advantage. If I disagreed with someone then the rest turned against me. I'm better off with Amy, Andrea, and you.”

“Yer gonna regret it.”

“I can promise you now that I won’t.” You retorted. You then sighed, laying back. “Let’s stop talkin’ ‘bout this. I seriously need a smoke.”

“I got some in ma bag.” Daryl looked around, his eyebrows furrowed when he didn’t see around him.

“It’s in my car.” You replied, pushing yourself up to grab your shoes and keys. “Your brother was kind enough to get your ass in my car and bring your bike.”

“Merle?”

“Yeah, met him I pulled up. Why? Is something wrong?”

“Nah. It’s nothing.” You nodded and left, leaving Daryl sitting on the couch.

As he took another sip from the mug, Daryl’s phone rang. He glanced at his phone briefly but didn’t bother to check the caller ID as he flipped open his phone, assuming it was his brother.

“Merle.” Daryl answered, rather annoyed.

“Daryl, my man!” His voice boomed though the phone, all cocky and charming as usual. “How’s my favorite deliver boy doin’ today?”

The voice on the other end wasn’t Merle’s. It was Negan Smith. Daryl’s heart dropped as he recognized him.

His voice made Daryl’s stomach churn. If he remembered correctly, the delivery was for friday, tomorrow and any call from Negan was never good news.

“What do ya want, Negan?”

“There’s been a change of plans. We’ve got an emergency and I need the damn goods by midnight. Tonight.”

“We had a deal-!”

“Fuck the deal, Dixon.” Negan's tone shifted suddenly, becoming serious. “You’ve got until midnight. Don't make me come lookin’ for you. We all remember what happened last time you were late.”

With that, Negan hung up, leaving Daryl staring at his phone in disbelief. He threw his phone and held the scream he wanted to let out, but he held his head in his hands.

He had until midnight... Failure wasn’t an option.

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⊰ Chapter 7 ⊰ » » YOU’RE HERE « « ⊰ Chapter 9 ⊰

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howlingday · 1 day

Text

Jaune: Whoa! This upgrade system had everything! It even has an upgrade section for dick size!

Jaune: Not that I need it or anything.

Jaune: ...

Boop, boop, boop... DICK SIZE UPGRADED TO (12) INCHES

Jaune: Nice...

Jaune: Wait, what's voice appeal?

Boop, boop, boop... VOICE APPEAL UPGRADED

Jaune: What the hell is this supposed to- Whoa! I sound sexy as fuck...

Jaune: Yare yare... Now bend over.

Jaune: I could tell anyone to do whatever I wanted with a voice like this. But how is this supposed to help me slay Grimm?.

Yang: It'll help you to slay MY Grimm, step-bro- I mean, Jaune~!

Jaune: ...Yeah, system, just put my voice back to normal now.

#rwby #jaune arc #yang xiao long #the anime boiis #solo leveling abridged

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pre11yyy · 1 day

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Synopsis: Mark got short of money so he decided to take jeno's idea of trying porn into consideration

A.N: i don't really know how porn works so everything here is made up, also i forgot to a point that this was supposed to be porn so there is that.

Mark has been running short of money lately, so short, none of his part time jobs were enough for his college titutions neither they were enough to pay for his rent, he sighed resting his head on the single black sofa thinking about what he can do, he chew on his lower lip recalling his friend's Jeno words yesterday "what about acting in porn?" the later asked making Mark widen his eyes in disbelieve from the words that left his friend, his ears red "wtf do you mean dude no" he was quick to shut the offer down. But now he couldn't help but think about it.

He had heard stories about people earning so much in a single shoot, he wasn't a virgin but he had never had sex with someone he didn't know, but desperate times call for desperate measures, so he decided to call Jeno and ask for more information about the job. Jeno was quick to answer the phone. "Hey, I was starting to think you had changed your mind about that offer." Mark felt a little embarrassed, but he had to face reality. "No, I'm still interested. I just… needed some time to think about it, I guess." "Well, you came to the right place," Jeno replied with a chuckle. "I've got some connections in the industry, and I can get you an audition for one of the biggest production companies around. They're always looking for new talent." "Really?" Mark asked, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. "Really. Just meet me at the coffee shop tomorrow at noon, and I'll give you all the details you need." "Okay," Mark agreed, hanging up the phone. He sat there for a moment, still unable to believe that he was actually considering this.

But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a real possibility. And if he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. He would give it his all, just like he always did. The day of the audition came, Mark had no idea what they r gonna make him do in this audition, lucky for him that Jeno knew one of the guys that he introduced him to as Jaemin, he was quick to reassure Mark about everything, scanning him from head to toe before encouraging him to come to the audition. "So,What do you need me to do?" Mark asked, trying to hide his nervousness. Jaemin smiled, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth. "Well, We just want to see how you handle yourself on camera. We need you to follow my instructions, and do exactly what I tell you. Understood?" Mark nodded, taking a deep breath. "Understood." "Great. Now, why don't you get comfortable?" Jaemin motioned for him to sit on the black leather chair in the center of the room. "Just close your eyes and relax. I'm going to give you some directions through your earpiece."

Mark closed his eyes, taking a moment to compose himself. He could feel the weight of the earpiece in his ear, and the gentle hum of Jaemin's voice as he began to give him instructions. "Okay… Mark… take a deep breath. Now, slowly exhale…" As he followed Jaemin's instructions, Mark felt himself beginning to relax. His heart rate slowed down, and his muscles loosened. He was ready. Or at least he thought so before Jaemin's next words hit him like a ton of bricks.

"All right, Mark. Time to strip for the camera and jerk off." What the hell? As much as Mark knew this is what the job is about he couldn't help the shock he felt, he has never done anything like this in front of anyone before, he cleared his throat reminding himself that he needs the money , this is his only shot to make it out of this hole he dug himself into, and he has to do it. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, revealing his toned abs and broad chest. Then he slid off his pants, revealing his boxer briefs, which were already starting to bulge. He hesitated for a moment, but then continued, unfastening his belt and lowering his underwear. His cock sprang free, hard as a rock, and he couldn't help but feel self-conscious about it.

"That's it, Mark. You're doing great," Jaemin encouraged him through the earpiece. "Just keep going, and remember to make it look realistic." With a deep breath, Mark began to stroke himself, trying to mimic the movements he had seen in porn. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of his hand gliding up and down his shaft, and the anticipation of the inevitable release. As he continued, he could feel the tension building within him. His breathing became labored, and his muscles tensed. He knew he was close, but he had to hold on for just a little longer. He could hear Jaemin's voice in his ear, guiding him through each thrust, each caress.

Finally, he felt the familiar tightening in his abdomen, and the warmth spreading through his body. He moaned softly as he released his load, shooting thick, white ropes of cum across the room. His muscles relaxed, and he collapsed back into the chair, spent. He opened his eyes, blinking away the last remnants of the orgasm. Jaemin was watching him intently from across the room, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Very good, Mark. You will definitely work for us" Jaemin was impressed by the man's cock and expressions, having already a vision of how many people will come searching for his videos in the future . "Thank you," Mark managed to say between ragged breaths not really sure about what he is thanking the man about but he had to say something. "Don't mention it. Now, why don't you go ahead and get dressed? We'll talk about the next steps once you're ready." Gratefully, Mark stood up and began to dress. As he did, he couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed after seeing the mess he made on the leather chair but he shook it off quickly, following one of the staff to another waiting room where other contestants were sitting . He took a deep breath, and tried to compose himself, waiting for someone to tell him what would happen next.

"Mark?" a familiar voice said, and he looked up to see Jeno standing beside him. "You did great in there." "Thanks," Mark managed to reply, still feeling a little shaky. "I hope so." Jeno smiled reassuringly and squeezed his shoulder. "Trust me, you killed it. You're going to be perfect for this job." He paused, then added with a wink, "And don't worry about the mess you made. They clean up after everyone." Mark couldn't help but laugh a little at that. "Okay," he said, feeling a little more at ease. "Thanks, Jeno. I really appreciate it." They sat in silence for a moment, just watching the others in the room. Finally, one of the staff members approached them and informed them about the last test which was for them to fuck a woman, Mark was so nervous, it has been so long since he has been laid or even thought about sex with someone else, he couldn't help but worry about his performance. "Don't worry about it," Jeno whispered to him. "You'll be fine. Just remember to enjoy it." And with that, the woman was brought in, and the final test began.

Mark was so nervous, he couldn't even remember your name. All he could focus on was your body as soon as he stepped in, seeing you laying on the bed in your whole glory, wearing only a red dress that left nothing to imagination, you turned your head upon hearing the door click and you couldn't help the sarcastic laugh that slipped out of you, you were sure that he is inexperienced just by the way he walked towards you, his steps hesitant and unsure. "You can take your time, sweetheart," you said with a smirk, your voice dripping with honey. Mark looked at you, his eyes wide with anticipation, he took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. "I… I don't want to hurt you," he stammered. You laughed, a genuine, throaty sound that made his cock twitch. "Oh, don't worry about that. I can take care of myself." He nodded slowly, still unsure, but you could see the determination in his eyes. He climbed onto the bed, kneeling between your legs, you locked your eyes with his trying to seduce him and wanting just to get over this, sure that he won't do a good job but to your surprise he did.

Mark could feel his cock twitch at the way your were giving him attention his eyes wondering around your body not really sure where he should start with but remembering Jeno's words he followed his instincts trying to ignore the way the camera was on him. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, and then slowly began to make his way up your body. Your skin was so soft beneath his lips, and you let out a soft moan as he reached your breast. He cupped it in his hand, gently massaging your nipple through the fabric of your dress. "That's it," you whispered, arching your back. "Touch me." He took this as a go signal and slowly began to unbutton your dress, revealing more and more of your body to him. Your breasts were full and perfect, and he couldn't help but marvel at them. With one final pull, the dress fell to the floor, leaving you completely naked. "Fuck," he breathed, staring at your body. "You're so beautiful." You smiled, running your hands through his hair. "Thank you," you purred. "Now, why don't you show me what you've got?" your eyes drifted to the tent on his pants, biting your lips you dragged your foot over it seeing how he dropped his head to the back a small groan leaving his lips, you smirked he looks big and you were so curious to see if you were right or not . He looked up at you, eyes dark with lust and it made your insides clench, maybe just maybe he started to grow up on you, Jaemin ruined this moment signaling you to hurry up as there is more contestants coming in and he didn't want you two to be late. "Come here, Mark," you said, pulling him down to you. "Let's see what you can do." He didn't hesitate, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss as he pushed his pants down, freeing his cock. You wrapped your hands around him, marveling at how hard he already was so impressed by how heavy he felt in your hold, your insides throbbing with anticipation before you guided him towards you entrance, both of you let breathy moans as you felt him stretch you perfectly, your eyes already watering at his size . "Fuck, you feel so good," he moaned, thrusting deeper into you. "So tight." You gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you felt him bottom out. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust, before pulling back and slamming hard into you again. "Yes," you cried, your head falling back, loving the feeling of him filling you so completely.

His pace was relentless, and you knew he was going to leave you sore and bruised, but that was the last thing you cared for, enjoying the stretch and focusing on the way he thrusts on you, your eyes rolled back, moaning constantly while Mark was basically on another dimension, loving the way you clench around him and the feeling of you dragging him down for a kiss. "Oh, God, I'm close," he panted, his rhythm becoming erratic and all the doubts he had about this job started fading away he'll definitely enjoy his job here, he find his hands going to wrap around your jaw, making you lock eyes with him and seeing the way you looked at him, biting your lip and moaning , he knew that this won't be the last time, he'll make sure to keep you coming back to him, he'll make sure to get into this contract and be your personal toy.

"Me too," you said, arching your back and grinding down on him. "m s-so fucking close" everything about you was so pornographic from the way you moaned to your facial expressions, everything was driving him crazy and Mark couldn't help himself, he wanted to ruin you, he wanted you to scream his name and collapse under him. With a harsh cry, your body tensed and you came, your inner muscles gripping him tightly as your release spilled around him. He followed close behind, his cock throbbing as he emptied himself into you. "Fuck," he groaned, collapsing on top of you, breathing heavily. You wrapped your arms around him, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm pulsing through you. "That was… intense," you panted. That was the last time you've met Mark, he got accepted to the company yet your schedules never aligned and that was a shame cause none of people you had after him stretched you that good, every time you can't help it but imagine him instead… Months passed by and you started hearing a lot about him, you refused to check out his videos, scared? maybe! But you were more hopeful that you'll have a project together and you wanted to find out what changed, how good he has become, it was more thrilling for you this way and as if the universe had heard your prayers your manager had assigned you a project with Mark, you couldn't believe it, the stars were really aligned tonight.

Receiving the script that same morning your heart throbbed so hard from excitement , you had butterflies in your stomach and for the first time in a long time, you couldn't wait for the day to be over, for you two to meet again and for you to see if he's still as good as you remember.

And here you are, sitting in the makeup chair, wearing a small nurse dress, your boobs threatening to spill from the material, your hair down and wavy, a tiny ribbon tied around it. You're nervous, excited, and a bit anxious. "Almost done," the makeup artist says, finishing up with your lips. There was nothing out of ordinary in this makeup, it was leaning more to the natural side, but you still felt like a million bucks. Stepping out from you makeup room you noticed a more muscular figure back facing you while talking with Jaemin, an undercut black hair styled perfectly, the black button on hugging his body perfectly, highlighting his sculpted form, as it was tucked on his jeans, his waist so much smaller making him stand out, 'that's not Mark right?' there was no way he became this muscular in a short amount of time. Jaemin's voiced cut your thoughts signaling you to come in, the man next to him turned around as well and you couldn't help the way your breath hitched at the sight of Mark, more handsome than last time and most importantly his demeanor a lot different, more confident it was as if he was a different person. You felt his eyes scan your uniform, biting on his bottom lip as he take it in, before smiling at you . "You look great," he says, taking your hand and planting a kiss on the back. "You're not so bad yourself," you tease, taking in his scent, something musky and earthy, and you can't help the way it makes your insides flutter, Jaemin smiled already loving the chemistry "you'll look so good in this video i can sense the hit" he smirked as he took in the tension between the both of you.

"You two know what to do" he said and left, letting you and Mark talk things out before filming. "How have you been?" you asked, feeling a little bit awkward after all those months,"I've been good, you?" he replied, still holding your hand. "I've been… fine," you shrugged. "So… you like the new look?" u gestured to the different color you died ur hair to,He smirked and ran his fingers through his hair. "I do, it suits you." "Thanks," you breathed out. "You look… different." u added and he chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah…I've been working out" he shrugged making you hum in response He tilted his head to the side, studying you, obviously hesitating to say something before he let it go "So, have you seen any of my videos since then?" You shake your head. "No, I've been avoiding them." you replied honestly and that made him raise an eyebrow. "Why?" curiosity very evident on his tone and it made you giggle,glancing away, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Well, i just wanted to discover how much u've improved since then live, you know.."

He smiled at that. "Sounds like you've waiting for this to happen" he gestured to the small studio you r in right now, a bunch of medical equipment filling the space with a single bed in the center. "Well, I've been practicing. I've gotten better at…" he paused, his cheeks flushing a little. "You know." you chuckle at his flustered face nodding in understanding "yeah" you mumbled, shifting your hair the the other side, you could feel Mark's eyes bore into you, his gaze focused on your exposed neck looking forward to what will happen, the scenario playing on his head again, and again and again…

The staff were making sure to set the place perfectly, trying different angles in the camera to see which one works the best before signaling for you to start, Mark was sitting on the small bed which looked even smaller in contrasts with his bigger form, his hands playing with his phone waiting for you 'his nurse' to show up, with a deep breath you stepped in smiling while welcoming him, carrying a small medical kit in your hand. Mark put his phone away, returning your smile as you walked closer. "Hey, Mr Lee, how are you feeling today?" you ask, making sure to keep eye contact. He chuckled, his gaze lingering on your lips. "I'm good, thanks.how about you?"

"I'm doing great, actually." You set the medical kit down on the bedside table and turned bending over a little bit to get the 'thermometer' that fall 'accidentally', flashing your whole ass to the camera and to Mark as your small dress rode up, his eyes scanning your backside as you stood back up, he swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled, trying to not give anything away. "It seems like you're doing a lot better." you tried to soften your voice turning back to him helping him to pull up his sleeves, his arm revealing his toned and muscular biceps, making you want to touch them. "Oh definitely" He replied, his eyes staring at ur cleavage that was presented deliciously in front of him, his pants tightening in arousal, his hand twitches, wanting to touch it, to feel it,

"So, let's get started." You say, taking his hand and leaning him down to the bed, your breasts almost touching his arm. "I need to take your temperature first." "Oh, alright." He nods, his grip on your hand tightening. Once he's lying down, you climb onto the bed as well, straddling his waist. Your hair cascades over his chest, and you can feel his breath hot against your neck as you reach up to take his temperature.

As you take his temperature, your breasts brush against his chest, and you feel his hands snake around to gently grope them through your shirt. He sucks in a breath, his hips bucking against yours in silent invitation. The feel of his strong, warm body beneath you sends a shiver down your spine. But you had to follow the script, trying to pull away from his grasp his hands keeping you tightly from moving, his lips whispering loud enough for the mics to pick "Don't act like you don't like it, you've been teasing me since i came in here, you're my nurse and it's your duty to take care of me, don't u agree?" You moan,despite you shaking your head in disagreement, pushing him away, Mark scoffed his hand going to wrap around your hair tugging at it to expose your neck, his free hand traveling to the front of your dress, groping your breast through the material harshly, your head falling back as he does.

"That's more like it" he groaned as another moan escaped ur lips, his fingers working harder on ur nipples twisting and tugging at the bud on top of the dress, his other hand still tangled in your hair, his tongue traced your earlobe making you shiver "You pretend like you don't want to get fucked yet look at you not even wearing a bra, such a dirty girl" "Please," you beg, arching into his touch.His lips ghosting over ur breasts wetting the fabric with is tongue as he took one nipple between his teeth, his free hand now cupping your ass and lifting you onto him, his hard cock pressing directly into your core.

"God you're wet" he growled, feeling your wetness through his pants,his fingers sliding down under ur panties parting your folds, finding your clit already hard and swollen. His fingers teased you, circling your bud for a few seconds, before he carried you making you sit on his face, his tongue lapping at your wetness, your hands finding their way into his hair pulling at it slightly as he worked his tongue on your folds. "Oh fuck yes," you moan, grinding your hips down against his mouth, using him, rolling your eyes back and arching your back, enjoying his tongue lashing on ur cunt. "You taste so good, baby," he groans, his words vibrating through your body making you tighten your grip on his face choking him with your thighs.

Mark can feel himself getting lightheaded, his vision starting to blur, but he doesn't care. All he can think about is the way your pussy tastes and the way your body feels pressed against his. His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass, and he can feel the blood rushing to his head. He moans against your clit,the vibrations send a shock wave after another one through your body, making you tremble with pleasure. "I'm going to cum," you warn him, and he doubles down, his tongue thrusting into your hole making you throw ur head back, he was so good at using his tongue his nose rubbing against your clit consistently.

"Mmm, yeah," he growls loving your taste, his voice muffled by your pussy."oh my god!" you cry out, your body shaking as you reach your climax, the pleasure rippling through you, your legs turning into jelly as you collapse on top of him. He takes in a shuddering breath, his mind spinning from the combination of the oxygen deprivation and the taste of your cum on his tongue. His cock is painfully hard, and he can feel it throbbing against his pants, desperate to be free and inside you. "Fuckkk" he groaned, his voice rough from the lack of air and the intense sensations that have just washed over him.

With shaking hands, he reaches down and unbuttons his jeans, tugging them and his boxers down to reveal his hardened cock. His eyes meet yours looking down at him with flushed face ur thighs resting between his head and it took everything from him to not bite on the soft flesh, he lifted you again, easily guiding you down to meet his hardness.

"Fuck into me" his voice was so commanding that it sent a shiver down your spine, his hands grabbing and squeezing your ass while his lips attached themselves to ur breasts again biting and sucking on ur nipples while keeping your dress on. "Oh God," you whimper, feeling his cock stretching you open, the same stretch you've been craving for, your hips bucking, ur hands digging into his shoulders as you try to take him in deeper. "Fuck yeah," Mark groans, his hips thrusting up, meeting ur movement, his mouth moving higher, sucking on your collarbones, the saliva on his lips making a wet sound as they connect with your skin. His hands move up, cupping your breasts, squeezing and massaging them, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples, making them hard and sensitive.

"Fuck I love how wet you are," he moans, his hips thrusting up, the thick head of his cock rubbing against your g-spot, sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body. Your moans fill the room, ur hips moving in rhythm with his, your hands fisting in his hair as you ride him, ur nails digging into his scalp as you lose yourself in the feeling of him inside you…. "Fuckkk, I'm gonna…" you pant, your orgasm building, growing, threatening to consume you whole. He growls, his hips slamming into you harder, his hand moving between your bodies, rubbing ur clit roughly, his free hand sliding up your body to cup your mouth, his fingers pressing into your lips"Suck," he orders, and you eagerly comply, taking two fingers into your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around them, tasting yourself on his skin, the salty taste of his sweat and the musky smell of his body overwhelming your senses, making your head spin and your pussy tighten around him.

"That's it," he says, his voice low and dangerous, his hand moving back down, kneading ur ass before delivering a hard smack, the sting making you gasp. "Fuck," you cry out, your head dropping back, your eyes squeezing shut, your orgasm washing over you, waves of pleasure crashing down on you, your body trembling with the force of it, your inner walls gripping him, pulsing, milking him. "That's it, baby, cum for me," he groans, his hands gripping your hips, his nails digging into your flesh, his hips stuttering, his own release approaching,

"Fucking shit," he grunts, his hips jerking up, burying himself deep inside you, his cock throbbing and pulsing as he spills himself into you, filling you with his seed, the sensation bringing you over the edge once more, making you scream and sob, tears running down your cheeks, your body shaking with the intensity of your release, the camera quick to capture the scene, both of your fucked out face and his cum spilling out of your hole caught in full HD as he pulled away, leaving you on the bed with ur legs spread open, your body still shaking as he tucked his softening cock into his pants and 'leaving'. The director signaled for cut and the whole set sighed in relief, some chuckling at the state you were in and how quick Mark has become a star, they were impressed and couldn't wait to see how far this will go, Jaemin smirked seeing Mark walking towards him, his hair a mess from all the tugging and pulling, his shirt a bit crumpled and his lips slightly red.

"You did a great job " Jaemin smiled,Mark's lips curved into a grin, nodding and thanking him, his eyes drifting back to you as one of the staff helped you clean up. "She's good, isn't she?" Jaemin asked and that snapped him out of his thoughts. "Yeah, she is"

I wasn't planing to write this now but guess i did lmao, it's not the best in terms of quality especially in the smut as i rushed writing it tbh, but i'll add stuff to it when i get out of work, but yeah anyways... M also planing this to be a series so we will see how it's gonna go

#nct #nct dream #nct mark #mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark lee smut #kpop smut #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut

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